Just My Personal Opinion, Of Course...

" Pushing herself backwards, away from the face pressed close to hers, Louise replied only with a prim: I bed your pardon?" "She noticed he was carrying some kind of bagel in his hand. With eyes peering between hat and scarf, the half-hidden face repeated the question, impatiently: "I said: when do you think it's going to start?" "Louise uncomfortable being so close to the strange, furtive face in the gathering early evening gloom, voiced another question in an uneasy voice: "What are you talking about? "His answer was a gruff, peremptory: "Always questions; can't get a straight answer nowadays. Listen, if you really don't know anything, then you'd better be careful..." Guess that's why U.S. cops stick to doughnuts! Muffin Man* Stephan Collina I think I've read enough fiction by now that I sometimes resent authors that I know could do better but seemingly goes, instead, for what

http://www.nbclosangeles.com/the-scene/events/ Like-the-Little-DevilAngel-on-Your-Shoulder-But-Sexier.html "The angel perfected Its form in an out-of-order ladies' room. Busty, very busty--It sensed that George adored a good rack. Wide-hipped, broad-shouldered. About forty pounds overweight, which made It petite relative to George. Beautiful red lipstick on big, voluptuous lips. Long, red hair that tumbled down in luxurious curls. Studying Itself in the mirror, the angel worried that It was too attractive--George had to believe he stood a chance with the woman. It tangled Its hair and added a stain to Its white blouse and a greasy sheen to Its forehead and nose. "The angel next arranged that Gat 5, where George was waiting, become more fragrant, more peaceful, altogether more pleasant than any other gate. Soon all the seats were full except for the one next to George, which looked alternately rickety, torn, and covered with sticky soda until the angel sat down there.

Upstairs in the casino's darkened security center,  agent Glenda Bixler and her team had been  watching Talanov on a TV monitor. Bixler was  the CIA's European Chief of Operations.  With her was agent Donna Pilgrim and  Spanish interpreter, Paul Franco.  In front of them were other monitors  connected  to feeds from various cameras  located   in the foyer, corridors, and throughout the hotel and casino. The room was filled with the quiet hum of  electronic equipment.      "Did you see the way he looked up  at us just then?" Bixler said.  "It's as if he knows we're watching."     A women's rowing champion from  Dartmouth who majored in European history,  the blond-haired Bixler was a competitive  woman of twenty-nine who spoke fluent  Russian and German. Her hair was  cut in a classic bob and she was dressed in  a dark blue slack suit and white shirt. An identification badge was clipped to her lapel. ~~~ Yesterday, I added a carousel at the to