Chet Comstock was nearing seventy now and Pat, the drunk I had picked out of the saloon in Button Box seven years ago, was at least seventy-five.Whene...er the three of us had a moment, the talk always turned to Judy and Cindy. Kenny had promised he would have them polished enough to be accepted into the so-called polite society. Miss Sylvia had done much in this area as well. We missed the girls more than any of us would admit while they were away. The town did too and the small ones who were. Ryan followed me to lunch. He wasn't his old self, though. First, of course, there was no throng of gotta-get-me-some-Ryan in the hallway, since it was officially a few minutes before Lunch I.He seemed deflated, somehow. And The MiniBrat was even deflated. I was even feeling sorry for him. Poor guy.Tuesday pm - RyanI didn't want to go to lunch. I'd just see people I didn't want to see. That damn Cathwright made me a fag in just 5 seconds. Thing was, if I had turned around to find a girl licking. More

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