Look, I just don't know quite how tosay this..." Go on," I responded, part of me not really wanting him to."I... Well, I think I had a wet dream," he ...aid, turning to face me witha pained expression on his face, the evidence of my indiscretion coveringthe front of his boxers in thick white globules. "I mean, I woke upcovered in... this, with a raging hard-on and all sorts of dirty thoughtsrunning through my head, so..."I knew I should tell him the truth, but I just couldn't. What if hedidn't. . Until she wasn’t there anymore. The problem wasn’t the MS anymore. Not the big problem, anyway. There was another factor climbing into the background. More serious. Pancreatic failure. Chronic.She caught me in the office one day over her lunch hour. “Charlie, got a minute?”“Sure, hon, what’s up?”“I want to be at my daughter’s wedding.”“Oh. I see. The doctor thing?”She nodded.“OK. Let’s talk to Princess Pinkie tonight. We’re only a few weeks from graduation. Let’s see how much she loves me.. More

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