Papa was no longer fixing a carburetor: he was setting up a greasy little Cuban missile base smack-dab in the middle of Mama’s immaculate Washington, D.C. It was a flagrant act of war.
David James Duncan
Papa was no longer fixing a carburetor: he was setting up a greasy little Cuban missile base smack-dab in the middle of Mama’s immaculate Washington, D.C. It was a flagrant act of war.