It was the day before Thanksgiving. Our little caravanserai moved out onto the road with all the glee and aplombof a New Orleans funeral that couldn’t find a Preservation Hall Dixieland band. It was warm. Unlikethe first yo-yo, this one did reply to my letters, but never took any action.
) How the guys never gave a short kid his “raps” when the sandlot ballgameswere in progress. on, and was the soletopic of conversation for many hours afterward, at least among the shaken and drained group in which Ifound myself. He fingered an edge of the firmhole, noting he had not steadied it up too well with the firmer. hmmm? Oh, yes! Thank you.
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