"Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in a tone that betrayed hot the slightest discomposure. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. ” That simple statement of the case was by no means all that went on in Ann Veronica’s mind. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly.
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