Round Trip Ticket
by Gary L. Tabbert
Disclaimers:
All “Early Edition” characters are the property of CBS, Sony, & Tri-Star.
All other ideas, situations, and new characters belong solely to the author.
No copyright infringement is intended. No money or profit
is being made from this story. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes
only.
Author: Gary L. Tabbert
Feedback will be most appreciated.
Date written: April 20, 2002
Spoilers: No specific episodes. A familiarity with the show “Early
Edition”, The Paper, and the characters of Gary Hobson, Marissa Clark, and
Cat is required for full understanding.
Rating: G
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I must express my sincere thanks and appreciation to several people without
whom I could never have produced this story. First of all, my most
valued and prolific contributor, was Sharon Richards. She has been a
fount of knowledge from which I have learned a great deal. Others who
helped me included Janet and Faith Brayden, Tracy Miller, Charlie and Jessie
Hanf, and Candace Waters. I thank them for taking time from their busy
schedules to help me work the bugs out of a rough manuscript. We can
only hope that all who write have such valuable, insightful, and wonderful
help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Round Trip Ticket
by Gary L. Tabbert
Chapter 1
“…cold for the start of what will be a beautifully sunny spring day, but
you should only have to wear a light jacket till about ten” CLICK.
Hobson’s hand connected with the alarm clock.
He rolled back onto his pillow, eyes closed, intent on prolonging the
bliss of slumber.
“Meow.”
Thump.
“Alright, alright, … I’m coming.”
Gary forced himself out from under his toasty comforter and grabbed his
terry cloth bathrobe. As he struggled to pull it on, his attention
was more on keeping warm than protecting his toes. It didn’t take long
before he realized his mistake, as the big toe on his right foot reported
to him where the leg of the bed was.
“OW!!!”
His attention wasn’t on Cat anymore.
“Meow.”
“I’m coming… I’m coming,”
He limped to the door, pulled it open, and glowered at Cat.
“I’m here… “
Cat, indifferent to the preceding events, trotted into Gary’s loft and
paused, … looked back over his shoulder at Gary as if to say, “well,
… where’s breakfast?”
Gary turned his attention to The Paper at his feet and picked it up.
As he rose, what seemed to be a business letter sized envelope fell from
The Paper to the floor.
“Meow.”
“Hold your horses, … I’ve got something here.”
Gary retrieved what he had thought to be an envelope and discovered it
was a folder containing an airline ticket.
He pushed the door closed and went over to the counter in the kitchen
where he could lay The Paper down.
Flipping through the pages of the ticket, he learned it was for a Summit
Airlines Flight 1975, leaving for St. Louis at 9:18 this morning and returning
this evening.
Curious as the ticket was, he laid it aside and turned his attention to
The Paper. He scanned it for immediate urgent events and found none.
In fact, he found nothing that really needed his attention at all, and certainly
nothing relating to the need for a ticket.
Having satisfied himself that The Paper reported nothing urgent, the idea
of “urgent” suddenly applied to his own need for a leisurely breakfast and
a full fifteen-minute shower.
* ** ** * * ** ** *
Marissa was busy behind the bar when Gary, carrying Cat, entered the pub.
“Good Morning, Gary.”
“Marissa, how are you?”
“Refreshed.”
“Well, that’s great. Did you sleep well, then?”
“Yes. I went to bed at eight, if you can believe it, and woke well
rested even before my alarm went off. It was a little nippy for spring,
but Spike and I took a nice, leisurely walk. We especially enjoyed
the sounds. Have you noticed the variety of birds that have been returning
with the season?”
“Actually, it’s the crows outside my window at 5:00 in the morning that
I noticed today!” Gary retorted sarcastically.
“They’re wonders of God’s creation, too, Gary,” Marissa put a positive
spin on his battle to get 40 winks.
She changed the subject, “Anything in The Paper this morning?”
“Well… Yes and no,” Gary waffled.
“What am I supposed to make of that?”
“Well, I haven’t found anything in The Paper, … anywhere, … that
requires my attention. It’s almost as if The Paper is giving me a day
off.”
“That’s wonderful!” Marissa’s pleasure revealed itself in her voice.
“Yeah. I thought so,” Gary paused, “Hey, Marissa?”
“Yes?”
“Something came WITH The Paper this morning.”
“What do you mean WITH The Paper?”
“Well, when I picked it up, this envelope fell out.”
“What was in it?”
“A plane ticket.”
“A plane ticket? Tell me about it.”
“It’s a round trip ticket to St. Louis from Chicago on a Summit Airlines
Flight 1975 at 9:18 this morning.”
“So, Gary, are you going to use it?”
“Why would I want to go to St. Louis? There’s nothing in The Paper
that refers to St. Louis, and I have no business to do there. Besides,
this ticket is for a return flight this evening at 6:35PM. Why would
I want to fly to St. Louis to be there for less than 8 hours? I can’t
decide if it’s a vacation or an out-of-town assignment. And if it’s
an assignment, what am I supposed to do there?”
“Well, I don’t know Gary, but maybe The Paper is giving you a reward.
It’s giving you a day off and a chance to get away. Why don’t you use
it?”
“What would I do there, Marissa?”
“I don’t know… Go see the Arch…. St. Louis is the Gateway
to the West… Have you ever been to the top of the Arch, Gary?”
“No, I got to the bottom with my parents once. It was closed for
maintenance.”
“Well, there you go. This is your chance to go all the way.
Besides, there are lots of other things to see and do there. Go visit
the riverboats… relax…”
Gary considered the idea. It was possible. Just because the
Paper hadn’t ever rewarded him before didn’t mean it wasn’t rewarding him
now. And if he was needed in St. Louis, for some reason, then he’d
be there. If not….
“Gary, you haven’t left Chicago in a long time. Take advantage of
this.”
“All right, I will.”
“That’s the spirit,” Marissa encouraged.
If he was only going to be gone a few hours, he didn’t need anything but
his credit cards.
He glanced at his watch.
“Just enough time to make it to the airport. Thanks, Marissa.”
* ** ** * * ** ** *
Chapter 2
At the airport, Gary found an ATM for extra cash, and with no luggage
to check, got his boarding pass, and breezed through security.
The Paper must really be rewarding him. It put him in First Class!
He had confirmed his ticket with the ticket agent and learned that it was
worth $961 because it had been purchased in the last day.
After being welcomed onto the plane by a pretty and slender flight attendant
by the name of Sally, he discovered he had even been assigned a window seat
on the right side of the plane.
He made himself comfortable, decided to relax, and just looked out the
window. He soaked in the calm of it all. Just sitting.
No running. No rushing. No deadlines. Just sitting waiting
for someone else to take care of him.
At the last minute before the doors closed, a tall, distinguished looking,
older, silver haired, well-dressed gentleman strode into First Class.
Completely oblivious to Gary, he put his coat and briefcase in the overhead
compartment and took the seat next to Gary.
He immediately pulled out his PDA and began pecking away at it.
* Probably checking appointments or making notes on that latest electronic
marvel, * Gary thought.
So, he had a seatmate who wasn’t into talking. * Well, that’s OK,
too. * Gary continued thinking as his gaze returned to the hustle
and bustle on the tarmac below his window.
It was just moments after, that the plane began to move and made its way
out to a runway.
There weren’t many pilots left these days that would really kick it, but
once they started rolling, Gary was heavily pressed into his seat, and found
the power of the take-off exhilarating.
This was beginning to be fun.
After getting high enough that he wasn’t interested in the sights or wasn’t
able to identify them anymore, Gary, probably out of habit, reached into
his coat and pulled out The Paper. Not anything unusual for an airline
passenger to do.
As Gary unrolled The Paper, … there, … in one BIG headline, was:
“SUMMIT EXEC PERISHES WHEN OWN AIRLINE’S FLIGHT 1975 CRASHES.”
Gary barely noticed the man beside him, rise and leave his seat.
He was too intent on reading The Paper’s article to learn how this marvel
of modern science was about to fall out from under him. It seemed that
there was a leak in the hydraulic system of the right wing and as the pilots
had gradually lost control, they reported it to air controllers. The
plane spiraled into a field just short of St. Louis with no survivors.
The man who left Gary, walked directly to the back of First Class to where
Sally, the flight attendant, was standing, and pulled her aside to where
they could speak privately.
“That man next to me has got to be a terrorist,” he began. The flight
attendant’s eyes grew to be as large as golf balls.
“What, in God’s Green Earth, would cause you to make such an accusation?”
the flight attendant marveled. She was remembering having greeted Gary
and noting how friendly and shy he was.
“He’s had this paper printed up with tomorrow’s date with a blazing headline
about the crash of this plane and my death,” the man replied.
“How do you know?”
“He just pulled it out and I read it.”
He barely paused and then launched into an information dump. “What
kind of sadistic, suicidal maniac would make up a paper like that and bring
it onto the very plane that he was going to crash? He would only do
that to taunt and terrorize people. And how did he know I was going
to be on this plane, anyway? My name is Harold Cavanaugh. I am
Executive Vice President of this airline. I want that man off this
plane and I want him off NOW. You are going to go into the cockpit and
tell the pilots on my authority that we are going BACK to Chicago IMMEDIATELY.
I know there is a Sky Marshal on this plane. You are going to introduce
me to him and then I want you to speak with the pilots. The Sky Marshal
and I will subdue this character. You have had training for this kind
of situation, so do what you have been taught and keep this as low key as
you can…. Now who is the Sky Marshal and where is he?”
Very taken aback, Sally acquiesced without further protest, “His name
is Scott, sir, … Scott Bailey. But there is something I think you
should know.”
“What’s that?”
“This is Scott’s first assignment. He’s never done this before.”
“Well, he’ll have to learn on the job, we’ll make the best of it.
Now, where is he?”
Sally led Mr. Cavanaugh back to the last few rows of the plane where she
signaled to a husky, very athletic, young looking, blond haired, blue eyed,
man to follow her. He rose and the three of them met in the back of
the plane where they couldn’t be overheard.
After introducing Mr. Cavanaugh and filling the young Sky Marshal in on
what she had learned, she excused herself and made a beeline for the cockpit.
Mr. Cavanaugh took charge. “Listen, Scott. We are going to
take control of this situation, and I mean quickly. You and I are going
to go into First Class and you are going to handcuff yourself to that guy
before he even knows you are there. Put the cuff on your right wrist,
walk up, sit down beside him, and put the other cuff on his left arm.
Got that?”
Nervously, “Ah, … Yes, Sir. Yes Sir.”
“Then I want you to secure that paper. Take it out of his hands
and stuff it in your coat. I don’t want another passenger to even
know that paper exists. Have him stand and you and I will frisk him
immediately. You’ll be handcuffed, but I can help. I don’t want
him to have time to even reach for anything. Got that?”
“Ah… Yes, Sir.”
They made their way toward First Class.
* ** ** * * ** ** *
Meanwhile, Gary had been pondering his predicament. What with all
the security, he knew he couldn’t get into the cockpit to inform the pilots
of what he knew. Not that they would believe him anyway.
His only hope would be the flight attendant. She had been pretty
friendly, and he figured he could count on her to listen at least.
Before his line of thought could continue, it was interrupted by Sally,
not rushing, but deliberately marching by, and entering the cockpit.
Gary pondered if he should go up to the cockpit and intercept her as she
came out. But before he could act, a very big man dropped into the
seat next to him, grabbed his left wrist, and slapped a handcuff on it.
Stunned, Gary looked at the Sky Marshal and stammered, “Wha… what’s going
on?”
“Keep still. Give me that Paper.” In one motion, he snatched
the rolled up Paper out of Gary’s hands and stuffed it into his coat, stood,
and pulled Gary out of his seat.
With Mr. Cavanaugh on the coach side of Gary and the Sky Marshal between
Gary and the cockpit, the two men roughly, quickly, and thoroughly searched
every stitch of Gary’s clothes and found nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Mr. Cavanaugh and Scott looked at each other. Somewhat perplexed,
they paused. Then Mr. Cavanaugh mouthed silently to Scott, “a bomb…
in the luggage.”
Scott nodded, roughly sat Gary back into his seat, and sat down next to
him. Boxing him in. As if Gary had anywhere to go, had he been
in the aisle seat.
Scott assumed the demeanor of an arresting officer and began, “You’re
under arrest for suspicion of hijacking and terrorism. You have the
right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be …”
He went through the entire Miranda stuff, and he did it so quietly that
only those in the immediate vicinity could have heard him.
The other passengers were all certainly aware of the ruckus. They
remained seated, but busily started buzzing conversations. You could
hear the volume rise as it spread to the rear of the plane.
Mr. Cavanaugh took charge and spoke loudly, “Nothing to worry about folks.
Everything is entirely under control. Just remain in your seats and
everything will be fine.”
The buzzing lowered to a lesser but still substantial level.
Mr. Cavanaugh looked at Scott and their eyes met, confirming with one
another that everything was OK.
“I’m going to speak with the pilots.”
Scott nodded.
Before Mr. Cavanaugh went two steps, Sally came out of the cockpit and
met Mr. Cavanaugh in the aisle.
She spoke first. “Well, it took a little persuasion, to talk them
into abandoning the flight plan, because they thought I was nuts, but we’re
going back.”
Even as she spoke, the plane began to turn.
The pilot came on the address system and announced that due to some technical
difficulties and nothing they should worry about, they would be returning
to Chicago. There was a loud groan from the passengers. It was
obvious to all that there were no “technical” difficulties.
Sally continued. “I’d appreciate it if you would talk to the pilots
yourself. I think they would feel a lot better about all this.”
Mr. Cavanaugh agreed, “Sure, I’d be glad to. By the way, did you
see this guy carry any luggage on?”
“No, nothing at all,” Sally stated confidently.
Cavanaugh checked with Scott once more and left for the cockpit.
Gary’s eyes met Sally’s, and was hurt by what he saw. In fact, ALL
the passengers were looking at him that way.
* Man! What did The Paper get me into THIS time? * Gary thought.
* At least the plane is landing. *
The situation didn’t leave any room for discussion. Gary knew that
no matter WHAT he said, he wasn’t going to improve his lot by doing or saying
anything.
Nothing to do but enjoy this calm, do nothing day The Paper had granted
him. Just sitting. No running. No rushing. No deadlines.
Just sitting waiting for someone else to take care of him.
Gary sat back and closed his eyes.
* ** ** * * ** ** *
Chapter 3
After landing, they taxied directly to a hangar quite distant from all
the other buildings at the airport.
The pilot addressed the passengers and told them what would be happening.
First, some officials would be meeting them to take a passenger off, but
then, all the rest of the passengers were to exit the plane as quickly and
orderly as possible. They were to leave all their belongings because
they would be allowed to get them later.
When the plane stopped, Sally, with Mr. Cavanaugh beside her, opened the
door behind the cockpit and two men in dark suits entered. They flashed
badges and spoke with Sally and Mr. Cavanaugh, looking and nodding in Gary’s
direction several times. As they did, the cockpit door opened and both
the pilot and co-pilot came out to stand with them.
The men then came over to Scott Bailey and Gary and introduced themselves
as Mr. Burtrand and Mr. Trask. Both flashed FBI badges. Mr. Trask,
the taller, huskier, guard type, moved in the direction of coach to stand
at the rear side of Scott’s seat and the shorter man positioned himself
just ahead of it. They formed a flanking position, bracketing Scott
and Gary.
“Are you Scott Bailey?” Mr. Burtrand began.
“Yes sir.”
“And this is your suspect,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“Follow me, please.” He turned and headed for the door.
Anticipating Scott’s actions, Gary rose faster than Scott could pull him
up. Scott stood back and Gary went first toward the cockpit.
Gary knew this was the ONLY chance he would EVER have to warn the pilots,
so he loudly blurted out his message as he was hustled past them, “Your hydraulic
system has a leak in it. Don’t take off again before you check it out.
There is oil dripping off the plane’s right wing.”
Scott wrestled to turn Gary to keep him going out the door. They
were losing pace with the FBI man ahead of them.
As they watched Gary being escorted to the hangar building, the pilot
turned to the co-pilot and said, “You know, those controls do seem to be
a bit soft and unresponsive. They could be low on oil.”
* ** ** * * ** ** *
As they approached the hangar, they were joined by a small crowd of people
wearing dark suits and uniforms.
After they got into the hangar, they entered an area of cheaply constructed
offices, some with glass walls. Gary could see through many of them
at once. Most were empty.
Mr. Burtrand pushed a door open to a particularly small, sparse room.
He stood outside the door and motioned Gary and Scott to enter.
“Put him in here, but don’t leave him alone. I’ll come back when
I want him.”
After Gary and Scott had entered, Mr. Burtrand closed the door behind
them.
The room they were in was obviously used for nothing more than meetings.
It just contained a few folding chairs and a metal table on a bare concrete
floor.
Scott and Gary took chairs on opposite sides of the narrow table.
As they sat down, they laid their handcuffed arms across the table between
them.
Burtrand, in a not louder than usual voice, could be heard through the
thin walls and closed door telling Trask to stand there till he came back.
* ** ** * * ** ** *
Mr. Burtrand aggressively pursued collecting as much information as he
could on what had taken place.
He issued orders to his colleagues, listing all the individuals he wanted
to speak with and the order in which they were to be brought to him.
Although Mr. Cavanaugh, given his stature with the company and direct
involvement, would have been first, he was off attending to urgent issues
regarding the handling of the passengers, the flight, and the main office.
He was, however, not allowed to leave the area until the FBI had had their
interview with him.
In the meantime, Burtrand interviewed all the other principles, Sally,
the pilot, co-pilot, and nearby passengers. He was preparing to speak
with Scott Bailey, when, finally, Harold Cavanaugh had taken care of the
airline’s business and came to see him.
“So, Mr. Cavanaugh, I’ve heard from everyone but you and Scott.
Start from the beginning and tell me what happened,” Mr. Burtrand opened.
“Well, it was a normal flight till I noticed this guy next to me open
up his newspaper. I couldn’t miss its headline. It screamed
that I was going to die in a crash of Flight 1975.”
“How do you know it was you? How do you know it was about your flight,
or that it was today?” Burtrand challenged.
“Well, The Paper named the flight. The Paper was even dated for
tomorrow, like the crash had already happened. Now that’s perverse.
Printing up a paper like that. That’s why I pulled the plug.”
“Where is this paper?”
“I had Scott Bailey confiscate it. He has it inside his coat,” Cavanaugh
stated.
“I think its time I saw this * Paper * everybody says you saw.” Burtrand
said and rose to fetch it.
Cavanaugh followed and they both headed for the room that held Gary and
Scott.
Trask stepped aside, and Burtrand and Cavanaugh entered the room.
Both Gary and Scott rose.
Given the size of the four men, there wasn’t much maneuvering room, but
the tension was high enough that no one seemed to care.
Burtrand led, “Mr. Cavanaugh here accuses you of having printed up some
perverse paper about Flight 1975 crashing. Where is it?”
Gary looked at Scott and Scott reached into his coat. After producing
The Paper, and handing it to Burtrand, Burtrand unrolled it and studied it.
He looked at Cavanaugh, then at Bailey, and finally, he laid The Paper
out on the table.
It was a copy of TODAY’s Chicago Sun Times.
Headlines and stories about all the events that had happened yesterday.
No plane crash, no deaths, nothing unusual.
“Explain.” was all Burtrand said, looking at Cavanaugh and Bailey.
Cavanaugh immediately launched into challenges and accusations that Bailey
had botched up. Bailey effusively swore that that was the paper he
had confiscated off Hobson. They loudly threw epithets back and forth
at each other, until Burtrand put a stop to it by barking.
“Alright… Alright… Alright already… Knock it off!”
As the men cooled, there was a pause.
Burtrand began slowly, “First of all, I have one question for you, Scott
Bailey, and then I want to say something. Did you ever see this paper
with the threatening headline that Mr. Cavanaugh claims to have seen?
Now imagine you are under oath and in a court of law. How would you
answer this question?”
Scott, looking incredibly miserable, first at Gary, then at Cavanaugh,
and then back to Burtrand, said, “No. I never saw the headline Mr.
Cavanaugh claims to have seen. I just took his word for it. After
all, he’s a VP of the airline.”
Cavanaugh looked sick.
Burtrand began slowly, “Mr. Cavanaugh, I have spoken with the flight attendant.
I have spoken with the pilots. I’ve spoken with passengers and now
Mr. Bailey. No one saw what you saw. Now I see a paper, which
is supposed to be THE incriminating evidence upon which your entire case rests
and it is nothing remarkable. It is a common ordinary TODAY’s paper
which Mr. Hobson could have purchased as he came through the terminal this
morning. Further, not one of the witnesses I interviewed claims to
have witnessed ANY threatening actions by Mr. Hobson at ANY time. In
fact, of those who had contact with him, they testify to his gentlemanly,
reserved, quiet, and courteous behavior. In actual fact, Mr. Hobson
has saved this plane from a future crash because the pilots informed me that
he made them aware of a hydraulic system in the plane’s right wing that
was leaking. Only you have issued any negative accusations. Everyone
else’s testimony is hearsay, dependent upon what you had told them.
I do NOT know what kind of vendetta you have against Mr. Hobson, but I, and
the FBI, can NOT be a party to your scheme. I am recommending that
all charges be dropped and that we release Mr. Hobson immediately. In
fact, I think you owe him an immediate personal apology and expect you to
refund him his ticket. Better yet, I suggest you make a stronger gesture
of your penance by doubling it. What do you have to say for yourself?”
As Cavanaugh, looking miserable, composed himself, Scott Bailey unlocked
the handcuff on Gary’s arm and released it.
As Gary rubbed his wrist, Cavanaugh spoke, “Mr. Hobson, although I know
what I saw, I cannot explain any of this. Given the case as described
by Mr. Burtrand, I agree that our airline owes you an apology. We
at Summit regret any difficulties we have caused you and will very happily
refund you DOUBLE the price of your ticket. I, personally, will see
that you have the money before you leave here. Also, if you need a
ride anywhere, our airline will happily arrange to take you there.
He paused and Gary, knowing exactly what Mr. Cavanaugh had seen, and wanting
to alleviate his pain, looked down, shuffled his feet, looked at Mr. Cavanaugh
and said, “Thank you very much, but I can’t accept your refund. I am
sure you acted according to what you thought you saw and am pleased that
you had such concern for your passengers and airliner. I would hope
that in the future, you are just as vigilant. It is better to react
and experience a false alarm than to not react and miss the opportunity to
stop a true tragedy.”
This amazed Mr. Cavanaugh. He responded, “No, Mr. Hobson.
We will make all amends as I have stated.” He turned, “Mr. Burtrand
are you satisfied?”
“Yes, I am. After we close-up all the paperwork, we will be leaving.”
* ** ** * * ** ** *
When Gary entered McGinty’s, it was evening. And yes, dependable
Marissa was still attending to duties in the office.
She heard Gary open the office door and, in spite of all the other noise
in the place, began, “Hello, Gary.”
“How do you DO that?” Gary said, startled.
“So, how was the flight?”
“Profitable.”
“Profitable?”
“Yeah. I made almost $2,000.”
“GARY, YOU DIDN’T! You aren’t supposed to use The Paper that way.”
“Marissa, I didn’t!” He said in his defensive tone of voice.
He filled her in on the events of the day and then continued.
“Well, Marissa, The Paper still hasn’t given me a day off.”
“Gary, The Paper engineered the entire event. It knew you had to
be on that plane to stop it from crashing. It gave you everything you
needed.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I know what Mr. Cavanaugh saw, and
I felt his pain when the FBI agents berated him. But even though I very
much wanted to help him, there really was no way I could. At least
we saved a hundred people’s lives today, and this time, it was Mr. Cavanaugh
who was the instrument of The Paper. He was chosen as the one it needed
to enable me to make the save.”
Gary ordered supper, visited with Marissa some more, and then retired
to his loft.
As he sat looking at what started the day as tomorrow’s paper, he read
about events he had engineered yesterday. As he turned the pages, he
noticed that the inner pages of The Paper were now dated for tomorrow.
He quickly flipped back to the front page. It, too, was now from tomorrow.
The Paper had switched back. It had taken care of him in his most dire
moment earlier today by temporarily becoming normal.
At the bottom of the front page was now an article about an airliner that
had escaped crashing because the pilots had landed before a faulty hydraulic
system failed. 162 people had been saved. The airline was praised
for its handling of the situation, and no mention was made of any “incident”
involving Gary.
He thought back to when he had gotten up this morning and remembered that
moment when he had finally begun to relax, … back on the plane, … looking
out the window, … actually believing that he had a day off.
He made himself comfortable, decided to relax, and just looked out the
window of his loft. He soaked in the calm of it all. Just sitting.
No running. No rushing. No deadlines. Just sitting, accepting
that someone was taking care of him.
* ** ** * * ** ** *
Das Ende
Email the author:
ImaGary2@earthlink.net
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