07/02/2026 03:16

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We had French toast. One morning a French military mis-sion came to cal on J. He was wearing a Woody Allen outfit too, Isaw--faded plaid shirt a little too short at the wrists, chinos a littletoo baggy in the crotch. She'd gone easywith the perishables, but there was milk, butter, half-and-half, andhamburger, that staple of single-guy cuisine.

Distant as a radio transmission from deep space, cheerful andquacky as an animated duck, some guy with a fair He's my kid brother, Fred; he'l be al right . This time, asthe generator died and the lights went out, plunging the room into grayshadow, I got one word in the clear:Nineteen. He say yougimme another fifty cent if there was an answer.