Date: Sun, 5 Mar 1995 10:01:30 -0700
Title: Joey, Claire, Cat

The explosion jolted and frightened Joey so badly that he
was up and out of bed before he wondered what was happening.
He was standing straight, back against the wall with
the ornate and hand-woven  bed cover stuck to him.

"Oh stars above, 'twould seem I've been perforated and
shrouded with a robe of innumerable pins and jewels!
Ouch, Oh, Ouch!"

fus.tian \'f*s-ch*n\ n [ME, fr. OF fustaine, fr. ML fustaneum,
prob. fr.  fustis tree] trunk, fr. L, club.
 1a: a strong cotton and  linen fabric usu. having a pile
face and twill weave.
2: pretentious writing or speech -  fus.tian aj

Several tiny fragments of
glass had been propelled by the explosion,  into the room
and  pierced through the bed cover into Joey.  The glass was
acting as tiny thumbtacks holding the textile to his chest,
shoulders, stomach and one arm.  Tiny spots of blood
accented each tiny sliver of cactus-like glass sticking
through the cover.

He wasn't sure if he should move.  In fact Joey wasn't
certain where he was or what had happened.  His ears
were still ringing and outside, the neighbors were yelling
and flashing lights all over the place.

Meanwhile Claire vaulted the fence and dashed down
the alley in pursuit of the Yellow Tom.  3:45 am
and Claire seldom got to bed before 4am anyway, so
her head of steam was at it's peak.  In one hand she
had the reloaded explosive dart gun and in the other
a .38 caliber snub nose pistol.

Run kitty, run!

It was Claire's first love, the hunt the pursuit, following
running and ultimately the kill.  Really, that was it,
The Kill.



Sunday Rain.
I "fed" my lawn last weekend and now it is growing.
It's trying to knock on the front door.  It wants in.

luv ya,
de