He insisted I get private tutoring with him if I was to pass. His idea of physics in private was like Mr Jones - how hard can you get hit in the nads...without puking, what weight can you lift with your tits without permanently stretching them. After a couple of weeks, I figured the answer to the second one was about half the pec-tearing weights he clamped on to my sensitive nubs, since they now stuck out of my body an inch like a freak, but he wouldn't stop. I got beaten up almost every day by. We fell into quite the routine regarding my wife’s return home from work. She would always make a beeline to the kitchen table and drop her backpack in the left chair at the end farthest from where we sat for dinner. The table seated six but since the kids had long moved out we only used one end closet to the appliances and counter space. The far end became a place for mail and her bags. She would say “Hi Hon” and then either following it with a short statement of “today sucked” or “what a. More

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