THE HUNDRED-AND-FORTY-SIXTH PAGE

As I believe I correctly recall, I emerged from the house a moment before dawn. The dog stood fecklessly at my side.

The helicopter seemed to be inches from my chimney.

Was it a glow from a bargain store flashlight shining from the frail wrist of My Editor? Of course, it was. In the foggy early-morning light I sensed drool collecting in his editorial beard.

I was alone at the mercy of a drooling idiot.