We don’t usually yell at each other, but if you can’t have a nice yell in Italy then where the hell can you?“Looking at ... You’re an art hist...ry major!”“Flunked. Where the hell are you?”“Kitchen!”“That’s not where the fucking is!”Okay, so no tea for me. I hastily downed a glass of orange juice and reported for duty. Mel was no longer naked, but this was almost better. She was lounging on the bed in some very expensive looking white lingerie, including a teddy so transparent I only saw some. "Ronni smiled. "Dave asked Dad and Mom. They're okay with it. Well, Mom's ... they're BOTH happy." She looked at Mister George. "I know what some folks'll say, but we don't have to get married, you know, like in 'Momma, I'm pregnant.' It's not like that at all." That's good to know, baby, but it's not anybody's business," Martha said. "Besides, people don't get married for that much, any more. Not according to what I see in the papers." No," I said, "but when some people see me with Little Miss. More

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