The anthropologist replied that they did, but couldn’t understand about the man in the scarves.The Chief said, “Well we don’t understand it eith...r, but it’s clearly part of English law.”“What?” exploded the anthropologist? “Where did you get that?”The chief pulled out the London Times and showed him what was written... “From time to time, a muffled titter passed through the courtroom”.A guy has a blind date with a girl and they go to a carnival. “What would you like to do first?” said the man.. It didn't matter,she was there.Jonna. Always there.Waiting, waiting for her day, like a prisoner waiting for parole. Whoknows how it starts, but it does. It creeps back in your life. That needthat desire....then along came the internet. My gateway to nirvana. Mygold mine, my Waterloo and my Alamo. I say MY Waterloo and Alamo. Jonna?Jonna found her parole board paperwork signed sealed and delivered. Thekey to the front gate of the prison hanging by her party dress and highheeled shoes. She. For the most part, Kristin's popularity won out and Cassie needed a new group of friends.So with her friends pretty much bailing on her, Cassie naturally became a part of our group.For the most part, our group was comprised of me, Jeff, and Fuzz. Sure we had other friends. Lots of them, as a matter of fact. We hung out with any variation of 10 or 15 kids. Through it all, though, Jeff and Fuzz were the two constants. Now it was Jeff, Fuzz and Cassie.During the same lunch period of The Showdown. Roberts. Fran and I hated to wear clothes at home but Mrs. Roberts said we both had to. I loved the house we grew up in. “I can stay and take care of Fran.” I kept saying that but nobody seemed to listen.It seemed that no matter what happened the money was going to run out. We needed food. We needed clothes. (I would gladly stay nude all the time. That would save on clothes, right?) A real estate person was called. If we sold our house the money would last longer, but not long enough.But no way.