Pool_1

somehow a key to the unlocking of life's mysteries. Don't we look for those insights in the pithy learnings of college education? Well maybe not the pithy parts. Anyway, when congress people come calling unexpectedly on you, and what they have to tell you is more unsettling than a child's arm all busted up, purple and pulseless, shit like that happens to your brain. "Uh... something tells me...," she was expecting a deep pronouncement. Doing a Blues Brothers face, Mac enticed, "I'm on a mission FROM GOD." "That, I agree with." Shannon laughed and patted him kindly on the arm, then patronizingly, "That is for sure." The table agreed. "You're a piece of work, Mac.", was the general comment. "You're a piece of shit!," Ivory intruded from the periphery. "You're are one of a kind," Shannon added, giving Ivory a nose crinkle off to the side without missing a beat. "Actually," Mac interjected with a tone of sincere objectivity, pausing for what seemed to be a mental calculation, "I think one of at least thirty to forty of a kind, if my estimate of the number of paper cups that were on the ground is accurate." The table thinned as the demands of medical practice pressed. Only Shannon remained. "What cups?"