“Just don’t be boring,” was Norton Sandlebee’s snide but honest response to those who were aghast at the critic who seemed to loathe most every creative work made by anyone. “Be unique to you. Leave nothing unrevealed.” And it was that sentiment that gave birth to this wholly new practice of Making - something truly dangerous. And Sandlebee loved it.

“That’s what I’m saying, man, just look at her — look at how she is, man. Look at her body and her hands, man — you see what I’m saying?”

Rocky and Hank peered over the back of the couch in the common area of the San Diego ComfortCity Senior Village. Alice Hannigan, or a woman claiming to be Alice Hannigan, was checking in at registration. She wore a pink skirt and blazer and a cartload of sweet perfumes that could be smelled from across the room.

Hank wasn’t sold. “I don’t know Rock. Looks like regular old… regular old Alice to me.”

Rocky stiffened. “She don’t look old. And what do you know anyway, how hungover are you?”

“Not even hung-ober,” Hank slurred, “Just maybe still a little drunkish from last nigh or this morning, hard to say.”