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Twain's 21st Century Reader
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Twain's 21st Century Reader in Bloomington, MN
By Barnes & Noble
Current price: $3.99


Twain's 21st Century Reader in Bloomington, MN
Current price: $3.99
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Size: EBook
An amazing fictional story about Mark Twain in the 21st Century. Using the character traits of Twain, this compelling story is designed to take you into the mind of Mark Twain as he would see it in the 21st century. Author Howard Harrelson takes you into a deep trance as this story unfolds, you will not want to put this book down.21st Century Reader ~Mark Twain in Sonora Mark Twain walked into a jam-packed Wilma's Cafe in downtown Sonora on Friday morning, December 31, 1999. Finding a single seat at the counter, he ordered coffee and a sweet roll. Pulling a long fat stogie out of his inside coat pocket, he asked for an ashtray. Upon being informed that he would not be allowed to smoke in the restaurant, Twain picked up his cup and headed through the doorway into the adjoining lounge. Twain seated himself at the long bar, hoisted his cup toward a lonely bartender polishing glasses and asked "Old Number Seven?". The barkeep, who's nameplate identified him as Bob, nodded, poured a shot of Jack Daniel's and placed it in front of the senior gent with the raging white shock of hair and a handlebar mustache.
An amazing fictional story about Mark Twain in the 21st Century. Using the character traits of Twain, this compelling story is designed to take you into the mind of Mark Twain as he would see it in the 21st century. Author Howard Harrelson takes you into a deep trance as this story unfolds, you will not want to put this book down.21st Century Reader ~Mark Twain in Sonora Mark Twain walked into a jam-packed Wilma's Cafe in downtown Sonora on Friday morning, December 31, 1999. Finding a single seat at the counter, he ordered coffee and a sweet roll. Pulling a long fat stogie out of his inside coat pocket, he asked for an ashtray. Upon being informed that he would not be allowed to smoke in the restaurant, Twain picked up his cup and headed through the doorway into the adjoining lounge. Twain seated himself at the long bar, hoisted his cup toward a lonely bartender polishing glasses and asked "Old Number Seven?". The barkeep, who's nameplate identified him as Bob, nodded, poured a shot of Jack Daniel's and placed it in front of the senior gent with the raging white shock of hair and a handlebar mustache.

















