Indian Aunty Riding On Top With His Devar

I have not acted well. I complain always of not working for money, so much that Linda becomes angry with me just as I do with Unkgat for his whining complaints in the hunt, and then when she tells me stop my talk I am so foolish as to use strong drink—alcohol, Linda says is name—to forget what I see as my sorrows.The alcohol is as stupid as I think when I have seen others use it for that reason, or any reason. At first it gives a little lightness, but soon all seems still worse than before and first the mind and then the body do not work well. Yet I am still more stupid and continue to drink until I can no longer stand and go unconscious.In the night I wake and must make vomit, it is a bad feeling. And my head still is not right, though I can think enough to wash my mouth with the brush Linda gives me before I return to sleep. But when at last I wake and the light is bright outside, my head hurts badly and my stomach is unhappy.Linda is patient with all, which shames me more. She. Moriarty,’ said I. ‘Let me pay you one in return when I say that if I were assured of the former eventuality I would, in the interests of the public, cheerfully accept the latter.’ —— Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ‘The Final Problem’ Back in Dr. Fredricson’s office, Phyllis Troy yelled ‘Stop it!’ as the men kicked Melina viciously. ‘Shut up, bitch!’ yelled Dixon, ‘or you’ll be next!’ Even though the men had guns, Phyllis prepared to launch into them, hoping to disarm them with her own Aikido skills. Even if she were shot, it’d give the other women time… *FWUP!* Dixon realized that he was seeing Griswold’s head explode like a watermelon. As blood flew, he turned to the cabinet between the doors leading to the anteroom and the clinic. The last thing he might’ve seen was the .22 WMR bullet from the silenced auto-pistol coming at his head. *FWUP!* The bullet hit Dixon squarely in his left eye. He fell back, dead before he even hit the floor. From out of the cabinet crawled Detective Joanne.
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