10:00 AM Green eye, supercilious, appeared over Edna Biddle’s Brobdingnagian bosom. “You’re not dead, are you?” Edna Biddle lay supine in a welter of dusty pillows. She opened a veiny eye. “The hell do you want, cat?” Mr. Tufts batted Edna’s nose. “The pull-tabs, woman! Your services are required!” ~~~OOO~~~ 10:30 AM With effort…
Fed by Matthew F. Amati
