“Do you have a spare set?” “Duh.” “Where is it?” She leaned over, apparently to look under the mat, but stumbled. I grabbed her shoulder t... prevent her from falling, but she promptly went limp. Sighing to myself I propped her against the wall and start looking for the spare set. After searching for some time I came up empty handed. Hoping silently to myself that she has reliably found her own apartment I break a hole in a window large enough to get the latch, climb inside and open the door.. You ain’t been there, and you don’t want to go, either. ◊◊◊◊◊ Let’s get down to the bare basics of the matter — right here, right now. If Liz’s dad was a pistol, her mom was a tiny thermonuclear warhead — with the countdown timer whizzing merrily away. Fritz Strohman had come back from dropping bombs all over Europe in 1945 and within a few years managed a Buick dealership for some of the local rich kids. He made a good name for himself, married the tempestuously wild and beautiful Betsy. More

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