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He needed a drink and egg nog wasn't going to cut it. He could only think about and remember the last Christmas present she gave him--that triptych of photographs from -
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water boarding and torture of children--he was the only blood left. The only thing separating them from his bad deeds and -
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"How to crash a wedding." His fingers hovered over the keys. Would someone see? Would they figure out that he--the quiet, meek and noncommital--was planning on rescuing -
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we can get to the church on time. That's right. It was Sunday--fried egg day and dress up day all rolled into one. The mess would have to