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a spare tire that was the envy of the Michelin man - an hourglass figure with
all the time run out. He was big and puffy and the kind of bald where the top of
the head looks like it exploded through the hair during an earthquake.
Frank gave Myron a ferocious bear hug. Myron was taken aback. Frank was usually
about as cuddly as a jackal with shingles.
He pulled Myron to arm's length. 'Sheesh, Myron, you're looking good.'
Myron tried not to wince. 'Thanks, Frank.'
Frank offered him a big smile - two rows of corn-kernel teeth jam-packed
together. Myron tried not to flinch. 'How long's it been?'
'A little over a year.'
'We were at Clancy's, right?'
'No, Frank air jordan heels for women, we weren't.'
Frank looked puzzled. 'Where were we?'
'On a road in Pennsylvania. You shot out my tires, threatened to kill members of
my family, and then you told me to get out of your car before you used my nuts
for squirrel food.'
Frank laughed and clapped Myron on the back. 'Good times, eh?'
Myron kept very still. 'What can I do for you, Frank?'
'You in a rush?'
'Just wanted to get to the heart of it.'
'Hey mtb shoes, Myron.' Frank opened his arms wide. 'I'm trying to be friendly here. I'm a
changed man. It's a whole new me.'
'Find religion christian louboutin motcomb street, did you, Frank?'
'Somethin
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