TOUGH LITTLE SUGAR CATOut from the harbinger they say herethat everything now means something.I don't think so; it's all meaningless.A scattershot recital by brats; a litanyof abusive excuses.-My screwdriver tray fell off of thecabinet; everything went everywhere.'Like ideas,' I said to Fred, 'like ideas.'He wanted me to tell him about thelast time in Woodstock.-Candy paper wrappers. Cellophane phonebooks, and that weird girl named Tendraselling pictures from her table. 'A toughlittle sugar cat,' I said, as she cameover and smiled anew.-She'd grown up in Timothy Shoals, whichwas a town somewhere near Biloxi; sheclaimed. I wouldn't know, and I said so.'Geography was never my strong suit,but I always know where I am.'
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