Looking back on it now, I have to saw that it's rather odd that in most stories like this, the narrator now tells his readers in cool, measured tones ...ust what sort of gun it was, which country it was made in, what calibre the barrel was and other information of that ilk... yet all I can recall was it was big, black, dangerous and pressed against my forehead. Terrified, I reacted in a simple, primeval manner and lost control of myself, a stream of warm urine spurting out of me and quickly. I grabbed my stiff little offspring noting howstiff the exterior of my child now was. All but his head had been soakedwith an industrial glue as each layer of alternating pantyhose engulfedhis young frame. This had dried much harder than I think he intended, butdidn't seem to mind as the puzzle he now presented seemed to be a doozy.How were we going to rectify this situation?Carrying him up the stairs was still somewhat difficult, but I managed. Iwalked through into the living room and spotted. More

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