Chapter 23

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So that’s what was supposed to happen. But not for three days. First we ate pizza and talked and talked. Of course, what we wanted to hear was what had happened to Elvis. Busted was fine, at least he was after he scarfed down whatever pizza we let him have, that is, weren’t watching closely enough. When he was done, he burped, took the kitten in his mouth and walked into the parlor and curled up under the piano, prompting Elvis to say, “We used to have one, but it fell off the piano.” He gave no explanation for this comment and I figured it had to be one of those old people things. We followed the dog into the parlor and made ourselves comfortable, helping Elvis prop his leg up on the couch. He was sipping on some “medicinal’ whiskey, as he called it, when he started his story.