There also was a throbbing. Slow pulsating globs rose as in one of those ugly lava lamps.The sounds were music. Or maybe not music at all. They were s...unds as lazy as the rising globs. His entire world seemed in slow motion.Every slow breath he took filled his head with memories. Not real memories. Just luke-warm breezes of artificially remembered happiness. They were long gone feelings of being well... well... being... Then there was the voice.It was a throaty female voice. It seemed to use. “Shit,” he muttered, “she must have had ten pounds of dirt on her.”It soon became obvious that he wasn’t going to get the hide anywhere near clean without soap, and he wasn’t going to use up his precious dish detergent to clean the thing, so he anchored it with heavy rocks in the swiftest part of the stream to let it soak and maybe wash cleaner.Turning to Lobo who was lying on the bank sunning himself while guarding his partner, Morales pointed to their pool. “Come on, Big Boy. Hell, if. More

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