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VICKIE

By the Troubador

I have to open this with an apology to the outhor of the story this is based upon. I have searched my hard drive several times and cannot find the story, though I am sure I seved it. The first is one of my favorite peices. It has haunted me for years because it ended without "closing". So finally I rewrote the story, adding what would have been a postscript to he original. If and when the author reads this, I would appreciate his contacting me. And hope mightily that he forgives me for using his talent.

As always reader, let me know what you think of this. Remember: When you beat a dog he gives you a lick. When you pet a dog he gives you a lick. Whether you want to beat me or pat me, let me get my licks in.

Vickie was royally pissed!

Her husband Carl was pissed, too. But he was pissed royally drunk on his ass upstairs, unconscious on the bed. Vickie was mad as a cat in the shower.

Dang blast it, and all the other blasts her granddad said that got her giggling; but she and Carl had agreed! They wanted a kid; they wanted ...

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