‘Mister, mister! Wanna by some of my Little Nightingales cupcakes? I baked them myself! I got a gold patch for them and everything! Only two dollars...each!’ Her pearly whites were flashing at him. She exuded goodness, the spirit of free enterprise and young Republicanism at its finest. He felt like he might need to throw up. He was not at all sure that he cared if she was in the way or not when the volcano erupted. ‘Go away kid, your bothering me!’ he barked hoarsely. ‘But Mister! Mr. King next. I had insisted that I be present when they interviewed Amy and Cindi. They didn't like it but they couldn't say no, as both of them were underage. When they started to go into the story again for the third time, with a derogatory attitude, and they started making disparaging remarks about Cindi, I started to get irritated."We've gone over all this three times. How many more times do you want to hear it? It isn't going to change any," I told them, maybe a little belligerently. It was bad enough. More

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