" I suppose," I said, and I noticed a sadness creep into my friend's face."I shouldn't worry about boys, Emmy. I'm so ugly. No boy'll want tohave me..." Oh don't be silly, Mar," I said, alarmed at her statement. "You're notugly." Don't lie to me, Emmy," she said, looking me square in the eye. "MyGod, you'd make a prettier girl than I would."I blushed; it was the fourth time that day that someone referred to me asbeing girly."Not me. I'm too fat." No you're not Emmy. You're a bit chubby, but. When Suzie’s eyes meet mine she whispers, “Where?” Hours later, driving my car that was new come the start of World War II, I turn the corner of Weston Avenue and scan for house number 21. Twenty-one, the age my wife was when we met. The irony almost makes me snap out of my haze and I almost turn the car around. How many times must I endure this? I don’t turn away, though. I press forward. I’m not always in control. The closer I get to her home, the further away I feel from reality. My hands. But Amy was better-looking than any of the young women who haunted the old apartment's pool on weekends, and she was sleeping in a bedroom right down the hall!And now she was making breakfast!When I came into the kitchen, Amy asked me to summon Shiggie (it was already 10 a.m.) for breakfast. I found him up and getting dressed, and went into my pantomime routine at his bedroom door -- spooning (presumably bacon) and making silly slurping noises.Maybe he though we were having noodles.When we came. The other hijacker was behind me. So I turned around, took an ambassador's glass of gin on the rocks, took a sip, spat in his face, and stabbed him in the gut with the knife. I worked my Krav Maga on both the leader and the hijacker. I took the gun and shot them twice in the chest. I noticed the other hijacker with his .357 was heading to the pilot's area. I chased him down, wrapped my left leg around his waist, and threw him down on the floor. I then punched his masked face several times till.
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