"Well," she giggled, "he did get to take me to dinner."I narrowed my eyes."Oh, fuck you," she grinned and threw a pillow at me. "Who are you to talk?"...ho was I? That was turning out to be a very good question."Anyway, thank you," I said, leaning across the couch to kiss her on the check and sitting back with another gift in my hands, one from "Dad and Mom (Tiffany)." Tiffany. That figured.It was an empty picture frame, with a gold inset inscribed "Marshall High School — 2006 State Champions.". None of the others are even tens." And the president?" I asked, swelling with pride and wondering what the number meant for I surely was nowhere near twelve inches in length.She giggled. "Five, I think. I believe he is a five. But there are men who are ones and twos, who are much worse than he is." No wonder he wants your book."She was quiet and her hand sought out and found my limp weapon, my spent member, my bent sword, more a six than a twelve."How many men are named in your little book?" I. More

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