To get my mind off my arms I looked out of the darkly tinted windows. The car was driving through a neighborhood filled with huge homes. Three stories...seemed to be the average. "Wow, someone must be doing well. Then again, they would have to have a lot of play money to buy a slave." I said to myself. I have never seen such big houses in my life, except on television. The driver slowed down. He pulled up to a house with a gate. The huge iron gate started to open as he pulled through. I turned in. And you’d think the food, rather the stench of this place, would have been enough torment, but oh no, not on your life. This place had so much more to offer. On the pleasant, rather too warmish Indian summer nights the south of England was enjoying that year, everyone, it seemed, wanted to sit outside on that nice stone patio. And who could blame ’em, really. Not me, certainly. It was — dare I say it — very Nice out. So all these Nice people have been working all day, go to their Nice homes in. More

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