" She reached down and pulled her purse over and opened it and took out a credit card."Put that away Amy, lunch is on me." Thanks Jeb but I like to pa... my own way." Well today that just isn't possible. You see Walter know just to bill my account and that means anyone who is dining with me too."She sighed and shrugged her shoulders then put away her credit card. Jeb helped her up from the table and they walked out of the restaurant and down through the mall until they reached the bank of. Cindy shows up on the date and time written in the letter and the address is the house that Jim used to make his previous films, the front door is locked but Cindy hears a buzzing sound and she opens the door. She enters the house and see a small box with the words For Cindy written all over it on the table, when she opens the box she finds a note that reads : Look behind you, before she has time to turn around a very large masked man grabs her from behind and putting a cloth { laced with a. They act as if it was a sacred religious artifact or something. But I caught a whiff of a rumor that it had been replanted many, many times. When one dies out from old age, another is lovingly transplanted in it's place. Seems like a lot of trouble to maintain a tourist attraction. I got the feeling that it was an old Indian shrine." her friend had informed her.This changed her view of the Lone Cypress quite a bit. From there she took to walking along the shoreline. The distance varied. No, what I'm talking about is the dreary whining of the self-absorbed me, me, me generation. Is it entertaining? Is it fuck. Is it sexy and erotic and suitable for a nice interlude of grappling with your intimate bits and bobs in a public toilet? Not a chance. It's as dull as some especially brackish ditchwater trapped within the world's least interesting ditch. Yes, indeed. Now, I don't know about you, but when I'm faced with a soul-destroying and tedious bit of prose I like to spice it up.