“What?” the old man asked. “Miss Lane!” I gasped, she looked eighty but she was the young third grade teacher what disappeared two years ago. Bhabhi Pa Sherman watched his brood, and I saw Miss Lane hobbling on her walking sticks and watching me, “See I telled you you could do three at a time. “Fill me you bastards!” I squealed, and then Horse getting the wrong end of what I was meaning he upped and poked his weenie right in my mouth like a lovely warn hamburger. “Yeah Boys, get her loosed up.” Old Man Sherman ordered. “Arm wrestle,” I said, “then the winner gets to go in front and the other takes her bum wise, she telled me when we went to the christening, cos she never knew who the father was, Aubrey, Frank, her Pa, that guy what brought the Pizza, the hiker, the guy in the hardware store, or the Football team but
