Chetspeak on Sunday
“Chet! What’s all the fuss?”
Bernie was up? I hadn’t even heard him. That was bad. I slid down off the window real fast and smooth, like I’d never been up there at all. Bernie came over and gazed out, giving me a pat at the same time. His hair was standing out in clumps here and there; one eyebrow was crooked; he wore what Leda had always called his ratty robe, although there wasn’t a single rat on it, just a pattern of martini glasses with long-legged women sitting in them. In short, he looked great. – from The Dog Who Knew Too Much
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