Eddie’s smile after seemed to agree. “Are you going to be my bassist?” he asked.“I’d like that.”“Cool. I’ll show you what I’ve got.�...�“I’m thinking of writing a musical for Charlie. For Morpheus. For its final show.”“And you want me to write the tunes.”“Maybe we can write everything together.”“You trust me working on the book?”“If you can trust me working on the lyrics. The music will be all yours of course.”“And you can be producer/director.”“Yeah.”Joe told him about the Little Prince. Tell you what he said, help me close these boxes up and I'll ride you home. I shrugged, my consent and went to looking out the window again. Mister Little took off his soaked shirt and hung it over the radiator that provided heat for his office. He'd really gotten soaked on his second foray outside so it made sense when he removed his slacks as well. He put his shoes under the radiator as well then we started working on the boxes. In the artificial gloom of the storm influenced. More

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