“Damn, that’s disappointing.” He says and I pop the rest of the breading in his mouth.I turn my attention back to the band and eat a mozzarella ...tick myself. The whole band does sound good together. I just hate that it’s still country music. As I’m nibbling on my cheese stick, I feel Mr. Jacobsen’s hand on my thigh. I glance over at him and he’s smirking at me as he sips his beer. I smirk back and glance back at the band. He scoots his chair closer to me and urges my leg that’s crossed over the. Whatever it was, it was hard not to feel sorry for Richard.*****Later, when the adults were up and the gifts were unwrapped, it wasconfirmed: there wasn't a pet cat for him either. So by either meaning,it hadn't worked: Santa said he would get a pussy by Christmas morning,and it hadn't happened.Of course there were many nice gifts: some things for his bike, acomputer game, a couple of books... but his fantasy hadn't come true. Hedidn't have a pussy.He cursed himself for his over-active. More

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