‘It’s not a very well known piece. John Prine wrote it. He’s an American, as you probably guessed.’ ‘Yes, I know the piece and I know John P...ine. But he’s pretty obscure for this part of the world. How did you come to discover him?’ I asked. He thought for a moment and then turned fully around to face me. ‘Someone gave me a CD of his ’70’s music. I ignored it and then one day, when I didn’t have anything else to do, I played it. I found it fascinating. He had these strangely serious but comic. His hands strayed now and again to his crotch to rub the head of the sleeping beast which lay there.Mario bumped the door open with his knees. His hands were full of light standards, cameras and two cases of film. Jason jerked around at the sound of the door banging against the wall and frowned."F'god sake, try to be a little more quiet, Mario." "Hell, boss, she's out like a light." That may be, my young friend, but let's not take unnecessary chances, eh?" There were times when Jason Benson. They shared an expression I do not often see from the Humans: a smile. My doors fully closed, I began the trek upward, heading all the way to the top. The male turned toward the female and dipped his head as she raised her head to him, and their lips sealed, their free hands beginning to touch each other in ways I had not seen in a long, long time from the Humans. I chimed as I usually do when I move up and down, and at first the Humans did not seem to take notice. But then the male separated. “What you got here?”She motioned me over and introduced us. “Officers, this young man is Steve Moore. He’s a farmer, got him some mighty fine stuff here. God dumped him in my lap, and I ain’t letting go. He’s got good stuff, fresher than anything you can get at the store, cheaper, too, and I ain’t got to go half-way across town to get it. You boys be nice to him.”We shook hands and talked for a minute. They seemed like nice guys. Grandma was talking to some latecomers, telling them I was out.