"Can't we watch something else? Aren't there any cartoons?" Shush, dear," said Molly. "This is history. You'll remember this day for the rest of your ...ife." Why?" the young girl asked, unsure of whether she'd missed something important. "What's so special about it?" You see these pictures on television," said Mark. "Those are real. That is what's really happening. It's not a science fiction movie. It's a real nuclear war. And it's happening in Israel and Palestine and Lebanon and Turkey and all. * * * * * While wondering my options and thinking about buying a kazoo, the only musical instrument that I can afford to buy except for a small harmonica, I discovered that the Chinese made accordions. ‘The Chinese make accordions? Oh, oh. No way. Accordions? The Chinese? Seriously? Are you kidding me? Wow!’ Why not? The Chinese make everything. Yet, the Chinese making accordions is akin to the Chinese making a Chinese incarnation of my beloved Ford Mustang GT. Somehow, especially after having. Not having bothered to put any more clothes on, I simply answered the door half-naked, and let the guy and two ladies gawk at me. Well, the guy at any rate, as they brought in the trays and chafing dishes. I sat at the kitchen table, and had a small sample plate, smiling to them as they set up, and made arrangements for everything to be picked up on the following weekday. As I spoke, my robe wasn’t tightly secured, and my breasts, or most of them, were on display. I had the young man’s full. Our bank president requested me to accompany your father to dinner one evening. Apparently I am considered of sufficiently high standard in speech, education, personality and conviviality to be suitable to host a VIP to dinner.’ ‘Oh god.’ ‘What?’ ‘We thought dad had picked you up in a hotel or a casino.’ ‘I don’t go to bars by myself and have never been in a gambling joint. Until this evening then.’ ‘Yes. Bye Rose.’ Maggie thought what an odd call. They would unlikely want to kill her or beat.