" That ain't all you're good for, Bren." Jill gave me a sideways grin and threw a seven on top of my six."Might as well be," I muttered. "I'm broke"I ...ossed my cards. Black Jack sucks anyway with just two people playing. It seemed pretty pointless, just like everything else around the place."What time you got?" I asked her, looking at my watch. "Fucking maple piece of shit." Fourteen oh seven." Jill dropped her cards and leaned back on the crate she used for a chair."I got this watch off a dead. .." Oliver Wendell Douglas nearly cursed as he woke up. It was the middle of the night. But that not what had him upset. He threw the covers off of his king-sized bed (and sent confetti flying). "What the-- Not again!" His fit but gray 60-year-old body was back wearing a long silk nightgown (green, this time). With its puffy sleeves, the only part of him left uncovered were his shoulders, and gray chest hairs (and his back above his waist, this time).Grumbling even more, he got up. The balloons. More

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