Play Boy India

When I emerged from my AAR, I was directed to Conference Room Four again—this time wearing a Navy duty uniform. I was intercepted by the esteemed Colonel Dorman of the Confederacy Marines. He wasn't alone—there were two of his Marines with him and both held stingers in their right hands. I knew that this wasn't going to be fun for me.Look at it this way: I was alone and unarmed against three larger men. They were all two meters tall and weighed in at 100 kilograms. They had ten kilograms and ten centimeters on me—and they were Marines. I react adversely to being zapped by a stinger—wipes out up to three days worth of memories. The two Marines flanked me and pointed their stingers at me."You think you're hot shit!" Colonel Dorman snarled. He slammed a meaty fist in my stomach, lifting me off my feet, and followed up with a fist to my jaw. I slumped to the ground and the colonel gave me several kicks. Think whatever you want—my options were taking a beating and hoping that help would. She named the tune."I don't know that one on the piano at all," I said with regret. "But why don't you sing it anyway? I'd love to hear it."And she did. The song was "Memory," from the musical Cats. Showing yet another dimension to her incredible talent, she sang it in a style reminiscent of Barbra Streisand. About halfway through, Dad, Mom, and Seamus came in through the front door. They stood transfixed as Inez, unfazed by their arrival, brought the song to its conclusion. A hearty round of applause ensued at the end."I think," I declared, smiling proudly at my girlfriend, "I'd better learn how to play that one, real quick."Soon thereafter, Dad, Seamus and I were glued to the TV, watching football, that great autumn male bonding ritual. Inez, to whom football held much less appeal than baseball, had joined Mom in the kitchen. It wasn't much longer before Dave and Eileen arrived. It turned out that Dave was just dropping in to say hello; he took in the game with us for about fifteen.
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