.. better than me ... but he has two hands, I have only one.A return visit to the Emporium and a unquick search of the premises disclosed a clamp on d...ill boring rig. Van Norman read the black riveted tag with white letters on the dusty red dirty bulky 110v motor. There was a dusty red tin box with assorted oilpaper wrapped shiny metal parts under the hinged lid that proclaimed, MotorcyclE on the blackened brass tag riveted in the top center.(M E Just like that ... in caps.)In my solitary. ...” he replied a little less certainly than I had hoped. “At least not yet.”“What would you like me to do?” I asked in as calm a voice as I could manage, adding hastily and truthfully, "I don’t want you to be hurt.”Pete thought for a moment more.“Maybe... maybe if you arranged just one more date,” he said uncertainly. “If it doesn’t get any worse...”Frustratingly, he didn’t finish the sentence and I didn’t feel able to press him further.“So shall I arrange to see him and...?” I let my sentence. I felt stronger day after day and a week later, the doctor visited meand removed my bandages. My face was swollen a bit and still had bruisesbut he was very satisfied with the results. He handed me a mirror and myentire face was different. My nose was a little upturned and thinner, myeyes looked big and beautiful, my cheeks were high and very defined, mychin was tapered and thinner and my lips were full and inviting. I hadthe face of a model. He told me I would even look better after a fewmore. ”“You think mine’s bad, wait until you meet some of the others.” John replied.“Chief Chatman knows Sergeant Hull.” Adam told him. “He says yours is about on par with his. Colonel Mason is worse?”“Colonel Mason doesn’t have a sense of humor that any of us have ever found.” John quipped.Adam blinked, pausing.“Apparently,” Adam snorted, “the JSOC guy knows Mason and confirms your story. I’ll have to keep it in mind.”“You’re in communication with them? How? That was a whole deal for us—me.” John.