”Roxie’s hands dropped off her hips; her chin plummeted down to her collarbone.“I was day dreamin’; it was just a lark. Cal’s not my type,�... she sighed. “We’d never get along. I’d take Junior over Cal any day.”“You see?” Millie sang out in triumph. “It’s all for the better. Everyone’s got to find their own type. It always works out better that way. Now, take Bonnie; she’s Cal’s type.”Bonnie was the third waitress who worked at the Bluebird, eight years younger than Roxie. She’d worked the. He knew what to expect and was not to be disappointed, the click of the disk being inserted was immediately followed by the application of the hot iron, then the spray and the all cooling patch, with as much dignity as he could muster, he was led to the chain and took his place tears silently falling from his eyes he was now number 376. The ceremony over, a cook appeared, placing plates and spoons in every hand, porridge, thick glutinous and cool. Every-man-jack galloped it down ravenously,. More

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