The living room is small and, to most tastes, merely functional. His armchair sits next to the open fire, which he must always keep at least simmering...with hot ashes. It heats the whole house. A stack of logs leans against one of four bookcases that form the bulk of the room’s furniture. No paintings on the rough-cast wall, and no photographs on the mantle. This house is just a receptacle for its owner. It is not owned by him, not in any emotional sense. It was here for two hundred years before. 407! The cheeky little bastard! The second-highest batting average in the league was .349.We had the Twins in the first round of the ALCS. The AL Central champions, the White Sox, were set to go against Seattle.I knew Paul Warren was searching everywhere for some kind of statistical argument to explain why we should be going into the Divisional playoffs scared to death of the Minnesota Twins. It was Paul's way. He'd keep looking up numbers until he found something to hang his hat on, and then. The brothers’ parents had been doing OK but took a turn for the worse. Caitie couldn’t afford her apartment by herself so we took her into our big house. She cut her job back to half time and helped a lot around the house to pay for her keep.I didn’t mind visiting her crotch regularly, of course. Neither did Kenny, a high school senior who lived with us at that time. Her needs increased with her pregnancy. Believe it or not, keeping up with three women who liked sex was getting more difficult. Dad instructed mom to call this guy and go talk to him and let him take some pictures if he is willing to pay her. I was to go along in case it was some kind of scam. I did not want to go but decided it might help me get my drivers license sooner if mom and dad had a little cash. The next day mom dressed up real nice and we went down town to meet this guy. His name was Will and he had his wife, Tara, with him. Tara was a real looker and looked to be a model. Mom and I listen to these two talk.
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