Pool_2

what they carved on your lady's breast. Its amazing how she's taken to flashing that thing. A might prideful, but not too, given the flux of things." John bolted up, tumbling his glass, though it was empty, "Flashing what thing?" "Her, mmm, icon of nurturing femininity! Its a long tale in the telling, but not now, not by me. Pass no remarks, Johnny, pass no remarks. And don't fold on it." But John was stuttering queries about his Shannon, who only undresses in the bathroom. "Flashing her tits? Is that what you're saying?" John squeaked incredulously while Gaffy laughingly played the mummer in hand gestures to convey the tender details. "Just the left one, the one with the scar," running on to describe the fire power of the new gun she was carrying over a chorus of, "Jesus! Scar? What scar? On'er tit? Gun? What gun? She hates guns!" McGuiness laughed a while at his friend's comic discomfiture. Then reengaging his neglected brandy with close scrutiny as if it were a fortune teller's crystal sphere, he again lamented that the children would be missing him. Pointing upward, "His wives have come to rely on me. Who will fix those bikes and scrounge up toys?" pausing, "Those babies need to learn the traps, John. Sweet ladies in raven raiment just don't know the underbelly." He spoke about getting back to Sicily as soon as travel could be arranged safely. While John was still stammering about guns, scars and tits, Gaffy just moaned, "Stuff it O'Brien. And it's just the one. Riper for it, too. Play with the other, if ya must have'em green. Here, have a brandy." He did. Then another. So what had transpired that was so impossible for John to comprehend? Several days prior, when Shannon was allowed out of her womb of fully attended protection, her first reflex was to seek normality by dialing up her hospital phone messages. In a