The voice on the other end simply said to get dressed. He told me exactly what to wear. Exactly. He wanted me in a black micro mini skirt, little blac... mesh top that barely came below my nipples, five inch platform heels, lots of junk jewelry and a bushy Vegas platinum blonde wig. He said to come to the Diamond Motel on the Gulf Freeway and then he hung up. I recognized his voice as the black man who I had met at a video store several years ago. I'd seen him on a regular basis for a while but. I was curious at their attitude but I put it down to their wanting to get the fighting out of the way so they could be reunited with their beloved mounts and ready to move on to the next campground and start the process all over again. At least, those of them that was still in a combat-ready condition. My memory of the fighting of that period was certainly not extensive but I did remember that the usual casualties on a major engagement were in the thirty percent range and that meant almost one. More

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