Bernie’s Strong, And Don’t You Forget It
Bernie tugged at the door handle. “Seems to be stuck,” he said. So what? This was the door to the broom closet. Were we all going into the broom closet – me, Bernie, Suzie, Freddie Dancer and the other perp? Bernie tugged again, grunted the way humans do when they’re trying real hard at something. The door stayed close.
“Losing your strength already, Bernie?” said Freddie Dancer. I didn’t like hearing that, not one little bit. A low growling started up from somewhere or other. “Show him how it’s done, Trimmer,” Freddie said. Trimmer turned out to be the bald guy. A big bald guy. He let go of Suzie, pushed Bernie aside, and reached for the door handle. All I could think was: we don’t have an upstairs at 99 Mesquite Road.
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