Is there a way to spin this into an effective little ending for the play? Sally and I sit down to rewrite. This I do every day. Molding information in...o quick sentences, correcting on the spot, never stopping to hate the words. I laugh at how relieved Sally is. “I adore you, Joanna,” she swears to the heavens.I share the story of our brave last-minute improvisation with the reporter; maybe she has use for it. Then I overhear it from Lindy: grandma Irma has no wardrobe that'll fit her portly. I growl, straining muscles to lift her slightly above my head. Then I turn and slam her upside down, back first into the seat I had been sitting in behind me. Just having fun manhandling this helpless bitch. Her legs flop over the back of the seat, her arms dropping limply onto the seat below. I keep her here, upside down, fingers still gripping hard inside her, she's pressed hard against the back of the seat so she doesn't slide down.With the hand holding her hair, I lift her head closer to my. How much film- usable film- had they shot? Would it be enough to finish their happy little show- did she even have a choice in the matter with her reaction? And while she debated, the transformation flashed in her mind’s eye in cinematic form: what the rest of the world, represented by the unblinking black eye of the camera, would see when they turned on their television sets. The before picture: from years ago. The camera would pan in on it, that awful thing. Of course they had found and. I was no slouch in taking care of business with my fists but Sam had a real advantage on me because I had this unreasonable belief that guys shouldn't ever hit girls with their fists no matter how much they deserved it. It was the same way I wouldn't force a girl if she said no like she really meant it. I knew a lot of the guys didn't think like that but they were all grown-ups and that was none of my business unless it was one of my sisters, especially Princess.With six sisters, you would.