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Indeed ... prayed ... as much as a communist could ... for the return of Marxist rule.Grandma (ba-bu’-sya) and Grandpa (di’-du-s) Hordiyenko were aristocrats of the old style. That they had existed through the purges and takeover was the stuff of legend. After the failure of the CCCP, their influence had kept their son-in-law in his position as Consul General.The only thing they held in common was their love for their sole surviving grandchild. We had been grilled by daddy ... the inquisition the grandparents put us through ... oh my. Daddy was a lamb ... we were sitting with the hungriest of lions.The questioning began with, “How do you afford such a boat?”“Insurance payoff,” I said.“Mind your manners, young lady, I was talking to your elder.”“Who? Cynthia?”“Your brother.”“Ah ... the middle child, poor boy.”“Middle child? But he is so much bigger. How can he be younger?”“In case you hadn’t noticed ... we’re triplets,” Cyn said. Cyn was midterm pregnant ... beginning a belly but. Very hard.Grace’s senses dimmed with the pain as the impact flung her head over. Her body flew sideways, her legs gave way and she crumpled to the ground.“Grace!” Zara ran to get between her and the big blonde. But Boris grabbed her by her hair and pulled her away. He gripped her by the shoulders and shook her violently, so her head flew to and fro.“Shut up bitch. We don’t appreciate having to come out in the middle of the fucking night!” He threw her down, next to Grace.“And as for you...” Xenia raised her hand threateningly towards the Striteracians, who cowered away.“Honey,” Grace heard through the haze - a menacing voice, from the dark by the cottages! Menacing, yet melodious. “You have two seconds to be on your knees. And him, and the rest of you.”Grace started crying, quietly, with both pain and relief. She’d come. Mia and Paul were emerging from the shadows, all black, with weird masks on and camouflaged chins, and guns. How was she here so soon? But that shape could only be.
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He was one who had to tell people every detail of his life, much like a woman. Thus, the first thing that came to mind was to call his friend Tony. He picked up the phone and dialed his number. Hours before this, Roger could be found at the Wherehouse. He had heard a lot of Tool’s new album on the radio and decided to purchase it. As he was doing so, he ran into a friend of his girlfriend’s. Teresa. What a bitch. She would have liked nothing better than breaking he and Amber up. Why this was Roger wasn’t entirely sure, but this was certainly something he didn’t need. ‘Oh,..hi Roger.’ She was holding a Counting Crows CD. Roger hated them. He often marveled at how they were total opposites. They had absolutely nothing in common. For all that though, she had a great ass. ‘Hi, Teresa.’ Neither of them really had much to say. They were mere acquaintances, and not even friendly ones at that. ‘So,’ Teresa began, ‘is Amber around?’ Roger shook his head. ‘She stayed home. I think she’s.

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