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once termed a ''sexual mutant between the sheets.'' Bad idea, writing romances. |
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Twenty winks couldn't hurt. |
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As I plunged headlong into a shadowy world of semiawareness, I could feel what was left of me sink deeper and deeper into an uncomfortable world of chaotic thoughts. Where was B.C.? Where was Keho? How many of those damn things were out there tramping through the woods? And perhaps the most troubling thought of all: Where was Gibby? |
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The old internal clock didn't fail me. I rolled over, glanced at my synchronized watch and mentally recorded ten minutes till eleven. The near two hour tussle with the sheets helped, but it was still foggy both inside and outside my head. I spent several minutes staring at the darkened ceiling, slowly becoming aware of the uncomfortable feeling you get when you know you're supposed to be alone but you're all too aware that you aren't. |
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Once again I had proven that Thelma's only son was indeed a clever lad and very much predisposed to caution. Just before slipping off into never-never land, I had tucked the old Mauser under the pillow. Now it was just a simple matter of a good acting jobroll over, slip the hand under the pillow, grip that dependable old hunk |
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