Please, if you would, the butler said, no throwing the linens. Peaches, anyone? -Fritz
Man, Rhage is playin’ with fire, Butch said as he started to rack up the balls. I give Fritz thirty seconds before he’s—Here he comes. I’m going to pretend I’m not here. V took a swig of his Goose. Me...
Fritz. The butler rushed over from the crudité arrangement he was working on. Yes, master! I am eager to be of aid. Take this. iAm peeled the cat off himself, prying both of its front claws out of his...