Chapter Six
The Hangover
When it comes to toes, a dog’s tongue is preferable to a cat’s
The same morning, a stabbing pain in Charlie’s neck woke him up. He opened his eyes to see a clear blue sky as a cool breeze whistled across his body. His clothes were damp and his feet were bare. He rubbed his head and the smell of dog s**t hit him. He wiped his hand on the grass as the Smiths filled his thoughts . . .
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I am miserable now!
The Comm . . . patchy memories . . .
Charlie had woken up in the same green where Deloris and George walked Len. And when Len spied Charlie’s naked toes pointing to the sky, his heart leaped.
Charlie still thinking about the night before—now with a groan he felt something warm lick his toes, then Delor
