That would be lambto slaughter time. Theyremoved their wrappers. That wasthe dream of the King of Tibet. Quick!” I was screaming at him, and was halfway over the counter, my hand tangled in his tie.
He turned to see the giant figure framed in the blazing sunlightrectangle at the other end of the dark tunnel. TheGarden of Allah where Benchley and Scott Fitzgerald lived is gone; it’s been replaced by a savings andloan. But even though I fell down that rabbit-hole in TV Land and found, like Dorothy, that it wasn’tKansas, or any He grabbed her foot as an explosion of breath from down below forced a bubble of air to break onthe surface.
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