"In case you haven't noticed, you don't have a single wife who doesn't cover every inch of the ground she stands on — as I've said before." Yeah, I ...now. Heck, that may be one of the reasons I'm worried. I'm afraid someone will grab Arlene's butt and she'll break a finger for him, or toss him over her hip, like she did that punk on the farm. That would be an embarrassment for Frank and Margaret." Not to say anything about pissing you off and your stomping the prick's ass," Diana choked out to. Since it was a cold and windy day,Bob had to search the area to find some shelter where he could both enjoyhis lunch and finish the newspaper story. He found a place of shelter downamong the trees in the near by park. It was almost a place of shelter thatis; as Bob was on the last line of his hilarious newspaper article thepaper blew out from his grasp. Bob felt the joke was now on him and not inthe story as he went running through the park trying to catch up with hisnewspaper. The wind was. Once they were set up, Mark and the photographer went down to the lobby to meet the candidate."Ahh, Mrs. Carlson. It is good to see you again."Judy Carlson was waiting patiently at the concierge desk along with her daughter, Julia. "Mr. Wilcox, this is my daughter Julia. She has her heart set on going to college so that she can become a teacher, but along the way, she really wants to be a cheerleader as well. Julia, this is Mr. Wilcox." Julia it is a pleasure to meet you. I'd like to introduce. Frankly, I hoped that we did. It was time to clean the genepool, and those scum could be among the first to leave it.“Don’t worry. Our own guns are giving them far more hell, as you know. Rat bastards don’t fucking know how to use forward observers. They miss more than they hit, though what they hit does harm enough,” I pointed out to Anne.“Plus, those guns of theirs are rather primitive by comparison,” Anne noticed.“Yeah, I’d say so. Superior shells, superior rockets. Superior mortars for when.