" In that case," Max ventured, "how 'bout me and you go upstairs, andyou can sing something just for me."Shamus' canary, as some called her, shook her...head. "Sorry, Max, butthe only singing I do here is downstairs." The hell you do." He took a step towards her. "A gal who works in aplace like this --" I ain't the singer my sister is," Wilma said, stepping in front ofhim, "but I got _other_ talents you might wanna try out."Max's eyes ranged up and down Wilma's form. Her hair was down. My sister tried to cheer me up during the long car ride, poking jokes like we usually did, playing car games, anything her 12 year old mind could think of. We would often play tongue sword fights, for some reason we never thought of this as wrong, and my mother seemed to allow it seeing it was just all in fun. We began the tongue sword fights, sticking out our tongues, mine fairly long, just how it was since birth. Our tongues would meet, slashing against each other in an epic duelor so as our. More

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