The Leaching of Ian Burns (Abridged) by Audrey K. Agnothedy - HTML preview

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1: In the End, the Beginning 6 Chapter 2: My Initiation 14
Chapter 3: The First Nap 23

Chapter 4: The First Snoop 30
Chapter 5: Some Answers 38
Chapter 6: My First Introversion 43 Chapter 7: I’m ready to Listen 48 Chapter 8: Wandering 55
Chapter 9: I'd Just Like to Be Old 60 Chapter 10: The Watering Hole 64 Chapter 11: Julia to the Rescue 69 Chapter 12: Garden of Eden? 74 Chapter 13: The First Class 79
Chapter 14: Homework in Heaven 86 Chapter 15: Piecing It Together 97 Chapter 16: The Hangman 102

Chapter 17: Full of Myself, and Ready for Action 107

Chapter 18: Joint Effort 116
Chapter 19: Overwhelming Guilt 124 Chapter 20: Preparing for Emma 129 Chapter 21: Emma's Adjustment 136

Chapter 22: An Honest Conversation 146
Chapter 23: Anger Management, 1001 154 Chapter 24: Pow-Wow with the Guys 161
Chapter 25: Getting It All in the Past 164 Chapter 26: 9/11 178
Chapter 27: The Ocean Floor 183

ii
Chapter 28: Little Irene 191
Chapter 29: A Trip to Hell 197 Chapter 30: I’m Ready to Work 206 Chapter 31: Communication is a Wonderful Thing

212
Chapter 32: Hardly a Break 216 Chapter 33: The Physics of Good and Evil 221 Chapter 34: Getting to Know Bill 226 Chapter 35: We’re a Team! 231 Chapter 36: And We’re Off! 235 Chapter 37: The Board Room 238 Chapter 38: Let the Tailing Begin! 246 Chapter 39: Check In With the Team 255 Chapter 40: Just Like in the Movies 262 Chapter 41: The Dinner Meeting 271 Chapter 42: What to do Next? 279 Chapter 43: The Devil in the Corner 282 Chapter 44: The Plot 286
Chapter 45: First Mission Accomplished 290

Chapter 46: Mission II, If I Choose to Accept 296

Chapter 47: Evil Incarnate 309 Chapter 48: Hermes’ Alter Ego 314 Chapter 49: The Race Is On 321 Chapter 50: Back to Work, Newly Focused 328 Chapter 51: What’s the Matter with Larry? 334 Chapter 52: A Meeting of the Minds 341 Chapter 53: Got ME Thinking 351 Chapter 54: My Shield Is Shattered 356 Chapter 55: Back to the Oil Gig 359 Chapter 56: Making Connections 366

iii Chapter 57: What about Henry? 374 Chapter 58: Moving Right Along 378

Chapter 59: I Asked For Excitement…. 384 Chapter 60: Fast Forward 388 Chapter 61: Leo, Lenny and Larry 392 Chapter 62: Larry’s Pet Peeve 403 Chapter 63: Danny’s Last Chance 412 Chapter 64: Leo and the Lawyer 420 Chapter 65: Larry’s Observations 426 Chapter 66: Change of Heart 430 Chapter 67: The Unthinkable Begins 434 Chapter 68: Gold Retrieval, On Steroids 439 Chapter 69: The Ultimate Catharsis 449

CAST OF CHARACTERS 452 COLOR CODE 454 VISUAL AIDS 454

iv

 

1
In the End, the Beginning

The pain was indescribable. A spray of sharp needles flying at my face wouldn't hurt as much. Instantly, it spread to my chest and then to my belly. ‘Help me! PLEASE, HELP ME!!’ My legs were next. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream. I couldn't see. I fell to my knees; then forward onto my face. Prone in the fire, through the fog of agony, I thought, ‘What have I done? WHAT HAVE I DONE?’

I became dizzy from lack of oxygen, but the pain seemed to be fading. I felt warm; not hot. And very light. I sat up (I think) but I couldn't see anything. I panicked. ‘I'M BLIND! Nooooo! Take my hearing, my sense of smell, my legs, anything BUT MY SIGHT!’

"Chill out, would you please," a calm voice near my shoulder said. "I'm here to help, but you've got to help me, too. I can't do this alone, you know.

"WHAT!!! I'm burning alive and I’m supposed to help

YOU!!?"
"Yes. Now, just take a deep breath and relax."
"RELAX!!!!? RELAX!! Are you crazy, or what!!?" "At least TRY to help me. Relax, and open your mind.

Ask your question again, but mean it this time."

I groaned. But, I suddenly realized, not from pain. There was no pain. Not even my usual old age aches and pains. My panic waned. ‘What question could this voice be talking about,’ I thought.

"The one you asked just before you started whining about not being able to see," the now slightly annoyed voice said.
My mouth was agape (I think). ‘She can read my mind!’
"Well? Do you want to know what you’ve done or not? We can't stay here forever, you know," she said impatiently.
"NO! I DON'T know! Who are you? Am I dead? Where ARE we?" I was starting to feel rather frustrated.
"Gee, they told me you'd be an easy one. Okay, maybe 'chill out' wasn't a good choice of words, but you don't need to be in such a snit!"
I had expected a guardian angel to be a bit more patient and helpful. “Are you taking me to hell?" I asked worriedly.
"Aarrgghh!!" was her response. "You know you're not evil! You're just cranky. And stubborn. And cantankerous. And too curious for your own good. Now, do you want to know what you've done or not?"
She was right about the curiosity. "I want to know what’s going on, if that’s what you mean," I replied.
Instantly, the darkness was transformed into a warm, bright mist. It felt so good. So soft. So fuzzy. I didn't care if I ever saw anything again. I'd be perfectly content to stay in this suspended state forever, which is saying quite a lot, for me.
A glimpse of the family and friends I'd leave behind ran through the depths of my mind, but they seemed ready to let me go. They didn't look too unhappy, though I thought I sensed a tear or two from one of them.

I was dead, whether I liked it or not.

I soon felt myself drifting down like a leaf in the autumn breeze. The fuzziness stayed above us, but the 'feelgoodness' stayed with me. ‘Not a cranky bone in my body for the first time in my life!’ I thought.

My angel cleared her throat loudly. "Did you forget already? You're dead. Or at least the old you is no more. Look at yourself."

I was a wisp of my former self. My basic form was the same, but I could see through my hand and I could slice my hand through my forearm with minimal resistance.

"Does this mean I don't have to eat any more to stay aliv-I mean to stay dea---I mean to exist?" Eating was a waste of time. There is, or was, so much else to do.

"You can do as you like. To eat, or not to eat, that's up to you. Here you can basically do whatever your soul desires. You can play football, golf, read, talk with friends, watch the mist swirl up above, play cards, or anything you wish you had more time for in life. Except sleeping. Sleeping is different here. It can really wear a soul out. Even the most productive sleepers have to wake up for a few hours to rest."

I pinched myself, or tried to. My fingertips just touched each other through what looked like a skin-like substance. Did I just hear her say sleeping was hard work? I had lived to sleep! When I wasn't trying to sort out something interestingly complicated, that is. But, now that I thought about it, I didn't feel the least bit sleepy. Hummm, I could get used to this place.

I looked around. We were at the top of a large treeless hill, or mountain, or volcano of some sort, ringed with various sized, shaped and colored bubbles connected by a conduit or conveyor belt sort of thing. A few feet away from where we had landed was a contraption making a humming noise. I stood up to get a better look.

It could have been straight out of the airport baggage pick-up area. "Am I finally going to get all my luggage those darn airlines lost!? This really IS heaven!" I exclaimed happily, although I knew full well I would never need ANY luggage here, and my old stuff was gone forever. "I had heard that lost baggage is what makes up the rings of Saturn," I joked.

My angel wasn’t amused. She looked like my first grade teacher, oh so many years ago. "Since most new arrivals are elderly, we let them ride to their pod," she responded matterof-factly.

‘She doesn’t look so young herself,’ I thought, forgetting she could read my mind. But she actually smiled, and I got the feeling that being old here was a not necessarily a bad thing. After all, she did say I could play football if I wanted to - at my age! "What's a pod and how do I know which is mine?" I asked.

"A pod is the living space for a collection of kindred souls,” she explained.
"No!" I felt a small surge of dread, though not as much as I'd have felt at the same thought in life. "I thought I was rid of the b-------!" The end of this feeling filled word did not come from my mouth. Rather, a small light gray dart flew out towards the angel at a fairly slow rate of speed. She dodged it without any apparent thought and little effort.
"There is really no need for strong words here. We can read your feelings as well as your thoughts," was her response.
‘G—A------,’ I thought. A small tan fluff came out of my ear as I thought this less than heavenly phrase. ‘Is there no privacy here? How's a fella to pick his nose, or relieve himself?’
NOW the old bat laughed. It was a happy laugh, not filled with sarcasm. Somehow I knew why - bodily functions here are not necessary. "But a bit of freedom from prying angels has to be a rule here, doesn't it? I mean, some of us humans are, or were, bashful souls, ‘(alright, maybe not me)’. I just don't want my thoughts out in the open for all to enjoy. Surely there are some limits to this invasion!” ‘A guy could develop a healthy case of paranoia in this place,’ I thought.
I became more than a bit annoyed, as an answer was not to be had. She just shook her head like the schoolmarm she most certainly had been. I swear I heard her cluck a ‘tsk, tsk’, even with the smile on her face.
Luckily, another, more helpful looking soul appeared. "Hi, I'm Karl. I'd been assigned to you for years now, Mr. Burns. Sorry I couldn't be the one to bring you here, but events can't always be altered or predicted. I didn't expect you to do something so silly at your age. I thought you had a few more human years left in you."
"No harm done," I said dryly. "This tremendously helpful lady kept me entertained with 'guess what I’m thinking' while I was trying to decide if I was dead or alive." I was sure to emphasize the helpfulness of my angel of deliverance. “By the way, you don’t look much older than a teenie bopper, sonny.” I shot a sideways glance at Mrs. Cratchet as a comment on HER age.
They looked at each other knowingly. "We are both MUCH older than you are, by decades. And her name is Pearl. Or Ms. Gates, if you’d like," Karl offered.
"Well, if you ask me, neither of you are dry behind the ears. If I were your boss, you’d both be fired! What kind of place is this? Can't a human being get better service than having a fill-in angel sent when he's dying, for C-----'s s---?" A small brown thumb tack flew out of my mouth instead of this phrase. It bounced off Karl's ear. He didn't even flinch.
"Being trusted to the less potent souls is an honor of sorts. It means you have more good in you than some, and needed less intervention. Or maybe I should say, you asked for guidance less often," he said. "You could have saved yourself a lot of headaches if only you had asked us for help more often."
All this gibberish was very irritating. ‘Why the h--- would I have wanted THIS kind of help?’ I became more and more furious the more I thought about it. A puff of chocolate brown grit snorted from my left nostril.
"Time to get to your pod, then," Karl said abruptly. I think he saw my innards start to churn with frustration. I couldn't handle any more of this kind of information. It was too illogical and I was starting to decompensate. Maybe Karl knew me pretty well after all.

Riding the conveyor belt gave me time to calm down a bit. It moved quickly with just enough bumps to make the ride interesting without fear for one's life. Not that one's life needed to be worried about here….

I thought about being able to do anything I wanted here. I wondered if the golf courses were any good. "Hey!” I suddenly realized I had no clubs. “How am I supposed to play golf without MY clubs?! I can't use just any clubs, you know" I glared at the angel of deliverance with this question to see if the 'you know' phrase annoyed her as much as it had me.

‘I guess some things do get past them,’ I thought when she didn't react to my jab right away.
After a pause, she smiled and said, "You'll hit holes-inone using your foot if you so choose."
‘Gee, what fun would that be?’ I wondered. ‘What would be the challenge?’
We rode by some wrinkled pods full of happy interactions. I began to wonder if I wouldn't be bored to death here. Well not bored to death maybe, but to tears, without any lively disagreements or interesting conflicts. ‘If there aren’t any souls here that could be easily riled, I’ll go berserk. Winding people up is one of my favorite past-times. And she didn't list it as hobby in her 'you can do anything you want here' spiel.’
In one pod, several occupants were in small window-like out-pouches in a wall, scowls on their faces. ‘Nice cranky souls! There IS fun to be had!’ "Can I be in that pod?" I asked Karl.
"No. They have their hands full with the grouches they already tend. You'll need more assistance than they can give you," he replied. "Your pod is further down the hill. They have more experience with your types of problems."
‘First they tell me I'm too good to need a decent angel, now they tell me I'm too challenging for the beginners. I wish they'd make up their minds already,’ I groused to myself.
"Get used to shades of gray, Mr. Burns. The quicker you learn to not think in black and white categories, the quicker you'll deAge," schoolmarm Gates admonished.
I felt a pang of ‘I like me just the age I am, thank you very much.’ "I don't want to deAge, whatever that is. I worked hard to get these gray hairs; what's left of them, anyway. And what's wrong with black and white? I hate all those crybabies who want to have it both ways.” As I remembered interactions with my wishy-washy workers, my face screwed up into a contemptuous scowl. “Yes, but, Mr. Burns….., But it could also be….Mr. Burns….That’s YOUR point of view, Mr. Burns…..,” I mocked. “Why can’t those mealy mouthed idiots make up their ------- minds!” The nearly black dagger that zoomed out of my mouth startled me, and Ms Cratchet flinched as it flew through her forehead.
“What the h--- was that?" I asked, barely noticing the tan fluff that floated out next.
“Seeing the world in black and white is easier for most people as it helps them make decisions more quickly, and keeps the uneasy feelings of uncertainty at bay,” Karl explained. "It's much harder to live in grays on earth, but here we add color and texture to help identify what's what and who's who. You'll adjust in no time if you'll open your mind to possibilities other than those currently ingrained in your psyche." Karl’s tone of voice was not curt, but his comment still didn’t set well.
‘If I'll open my mind,’ I thought with a curl of my lip and a snarl in my mind. ‘As if I could close it if I wanted to.’ I looked at them through narrowed eyes expecting a reaction to this thought. They just looked at each other without saying a word or showing any emotion.
‘How the h--- am I to survive here like this!’ With this thought a black puff of sand exited my right nostril in a gust. I began to wonder if some of the ashes from my playing with fire escapade had gotten up my nose, but this was sand, not ash. ‘D---,’ I thought, and a smaller tan fluff exited my other nostril. ‘Is this how a cold acts in heaven? But I don't ache, or have a fever. And I'm not sneezing. Maybe heaven’s viruses are wimpy. Good. I hate getting colds.’
We rode for a while in silence, which was just fine with me. It gave me time to look around. Some of the pods were actually changing color and texture, some slowly, some quickly. The ones nearer the top of the mountain had many large red bumps all over them. I watched dumbfounded as one of the zit-like swellings popped. Yucky goop sprayed everywhere. A wisp of a gold, glittery substance floated up into the fuzzy cloud high above us and disappeared.
I looked back down the mountain towards the nearest pod just in time to see another zit pop. The goop smelled rotten. As gold glitter floated up to the fuzz overhead, silver glitter dripped from the ragged edges of the remaining wall. ‘Interesting,’ I thought.
The conveyor belt stopped. "Your pod," Karl said solemnly.
I searched his face for clues as to my future. "Aren’t you coming with me? Aren’t you my guardian angel?" I asked.
"No. Not anymore," he replied, and slowly faded from my sight.
I looked at the fill-in spirit hopefully. "Me neither" she said as she followed Karl into the unknown. Once again, I was more afraid than I was annoyed or curious.

I wasn't convinced this wasn't hell.

 

2
My Initiation

At the opening of the pod was a child of what appeared to be 8 years of age. "Welcome to Camp Canopy. Here we exist as our hearts desire. You will not have to sleep before you are ready. You can have any thoughts you feel like having, but be aware of how you feel, and how you choose to express yourself. Follow me."

Her greeting reminded me of those canned ‘answering the phone’ phrases secretaries rattled off when a human being used to actually answer business phones. I never could make sense of THEIR rapid-fire speeches, either. Besides, the pod was so amazing it quickly pushed all my questions to the back of my mind.

As she led the way through the pod, I could see there were many more nooks and crannies than I had imagined judging from the outside. Some areas even seemed to BE outside.

My curiosity grew as we went deeper into the pod. Several nurseries full of sleeping babies were tended by mere infants. One nursery looked as though the caretakers were just born themselves. "This is the newborn section. The intensive care nursery is off to the right and out of sight. Seeing the amount of work they do can be traumatic for the not yet young," my guide said with a bit of a sigh, then added, "My name is Julia. I'll be your first deAger."

I looked at her for a while, then decided not to ask questions just yet.
"Smart decision,” Julia replied to my thought. Somehow, though, her invasion into my thoughts did not feel unwelcome, and I didn't feel the urge to give a smart retort. I felt only a slight nostalgic twinge at the absence of the hereto-fore automatic reflex.
We turned to the right, making almost a complete U-turn at the next corridor. We seemed to be entering mountains, with souls camping near a river’s edge, happily socializing around campfires. "Do you trust me around fire?" I asked with a smile. ‘If it wasn't one of those blasted new fangled gas stoves, I’d have been okay. It didn't have a pilot light, for Chri--- sake!’ I thought I felt something in my right ear. I stuck my little fingertip into my ear canal and removed a tiny bit of fluff, slightly tan in color. My forehead wrinkled with puzzlement.
“You may have noticed strong words and thoughts are turned into visual props. It helps us notice the strength of our feelings so that we are better able to deal with them.” She smiled and added, “And it also helps us to communicate, in case we are not properly tuned in to others’ thoughts.”
‘Chri--- must not have been too strong a word, then,’ I deduced, as a small puff filled my other ear. I smiled when I remembered that I thought I had a cold when the puffs of sand flew from my nostrils. “So that was why that dagger flew out of my mouth and into Mrs. Cratchet, then?”
Julia nodded rather sadly.
I didn't realize I used strong language so often. What would they do with some of my old cronies? ‘Humm, I wonder if any of them are here...’
"Look up ahead," Julia said.

They were at a card table that looked like a huge mushroom shaped tree trunk with a wide rim of smooth bark around the periphery of its flat top. The chairs were similar, with an arc of hollowed out bark as the backrest. They were playing my favorite card game - euchre.

"We heard you were coming, so we dealt you a hand," said my closest friend, Arnie. He had died just a few months ago. If he hadn't left me to cook for myself, I'd still be alive.

"You old coot!" I exclaimed as we gave each other a bear hug. "Why'd you leave me like that, you old f--t?" He swooshed away the yellow fluff from my mouth as though I had bad breath, and laughed heartily.

"You were driving me crazy! I was so p----- o-- at you that even the purple pill couldn't have helped the heartburn you gave me! That may have been because it wasn't heartburn, but never mind. Didn't Karl help you with that new stove? I told him I didn't think you heard me tell you there was no pilot light. I figured you'd be persistent enough to try to find a way to light something, somewhere on it. He didn't seem too worried about you blowing up the place though."

"Well, obviously, he was wrong," I said with some disdain. I didn't think angels made mistakes, but then again I didn't think they'd send substitutes to bring their charges to heaven, either. “By the way, this is heaven, isn't it?" I asked a bit too seriously for the guys to handle. They burst out in such intense laughter that they turned a deep red.

I stood there, annoyed and puzzled. Finally Harry was able to get out: "We were....har-har, hee-ee....worried... snort, wheeze, cough....too...cough, cough, cough……"

"Gee, don't die laughing," I said coolly, which only caused a more intense round of laughter. When the color of their faces between inhalations took on a deep violet hue, I really WAS worried they'd explode. And I really DID wonder if this was heaven, especially when I noticed who was also at the table. I NEVER thought Johnny would be in heaven. That old piece-of-work was so bull-headed and hateful on earth; everyone avoided him....sorta like they did me, now that I thought about it.

We never did get to play a card game that day. After they reminisced about their deaths and properly razzed me about the stupidity of lighting a match after I had spent over an hour turning the burners off and on in futile attempts to get one to burn, Harry, Larry, and Arnie said they felt like a nap.

That left me, Johnny and Joe at the table. Johnny seemed a bit perturbed that the others wanted to nap. "They don't need to sleep, and they know it," he said irritably. "At least one of them could stay to make a foursome."

"Why don't we just find another person to play? Surely, if we're here, other card players are here, too." I ventured hopefully.

"The ones up the hill play the hard stuff, like poker, for high stakes. Too much for me, even on earth. And the ones down the hill are too hoity-toity," answered Johnny.

"What about others here in our pod?" I asked, still hoping for a good rowdy game. I wasn't a bit sleepy, and a good game might take my mind off of all the novelty I've had to endure since I died. Johnny and Joe looked at each other and grinned mischievously. "Mikey. He's better than no one," Johnny said. I thought I sensed 'and if he pairs with Ian, here, we can finally beat the b--------.' Red fluffs floated from their ears as they rose and hovered off to get Mikey.

As I waited for them to return, I took in the scenery and wondered how a card game with mind reading worked. ‘Is there a poker mind here, as opposed to a poker face? Maybe that’s the way to survive the intrusions of heavenly mindreading.’

I looked down toward the river where there were men fishing. Some of the other campsites were full of souls cooking over a fire; others were tossing horseshoes. There were lots of hammocks strung between the trees with relaxed and snoring occupants. In one hammock, a fluffy white cat was purring in time with the snores. Back toward the mountain some horses were being saddled as other souls walked by on foot towards a wide path into rather dense woods. In a field several souls were throwing sticks for very happy, energetic dogs to catch.

Johnny and Joe returned shortly with disappointed looks on their misty faces. "Mikey was asleep. Who on earth would give HIM a job. The guy can't even tie his shoes!"

"Let's go golfing instead," suggested Johnny.

Joe was not at all enthusiastic. "I'm fed up getting 18 holes-in-one. It's not fun anymore," he groused. "May as well go to sleep…" and faded out.

Johnny frowned angrily at me. "What do YOU want to do?" he asked gruffly.
"How the h--- should I know?” I answered defensively.
He studied my face for a few seconds, ignoring the brown tack that floated out of my mouth towards him. He softened his gaze. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know all the options at your ripe old age. Let's go down to the Watering Hole. Sometimes the older sleepers have some good stories to tell." As I walked, Johnny glided along the river. I wondered again what sort of place this could be. It wasn't as warm and fuzzy, nor as well controlled as I had been taught heaven would be, but it sure felt too good to be hell. ‘This is just too d--confusing.’ Johnny smiled at my little ear puff production.
"I really miss the puffs of all colors and textures that used to come out our ears and noses when we first arrived. I guess we're all a bunch of softies now," he said. Somehow I couldn't see Johnny as a softie. But he didn't really appear too distraught at the paucity of puffs, either.

Up ahead was music and laughter. A multifaceted silver ball like those that hang over dance floors on earth floated over the scene. Light of all colors bounced from it onto the crowd below. Lots of souls were dancing anything from the Waltz to the Hustle. Many more were sitting around tables and the bar, talking and laughing. Some of them looked vaguely familiar, as I was seeing people from my past at younger ages than they were when they died. And some who I never saw smile on earth were even harder to place, as laughter changed the wrinkles left on their now youngerlooking faces.

The souls seemed to be in groups of comparable ages. The younger ones were not as animated as the older ones, but they were still very happy. Almost everyone had a glass with varying amounts of different color drinks. It was easy to tell who had the most to drink - their beings were the color of their drinks. Some had obviously tasted some of their neighbor’s drinks, as their colors were not the same as the fluid in their own glasses. A purple soul next to a red soul had blue fluid in her own glass. Some of the more gregarious souls were a nondescript brown from sampling way too many glasses. And no one seemed to need to go to the bathroom, as the floor was the color of their innards if they drank to overflowing. I could have stood and watched forever. I wondered ‘how do the church ladies deal with alcohol in heaven?’

"The drinks here taste like alcoholic drinks on earth, but they don't have alcohol in them. We just enjoy the atmosphere, and most souls are so happy at baseline, they don't need the buzz," offered Johnny.

He floated over to join an older group that was full to the brim of a rainbow of colors. They were laughing more than they were talking. "When you get good at mind reading, words aren't as necessary," Johnny explained. "It leaves more time for laughing."

I thought about asking my 'poker mind' question, but decided to wait.
"Worry about that later - you'll have LOTS of time" Johnny answered my thought. "Come on! You've got to hear this!"
If I didn't know better, I'd swear the old men around the table were wearing rugby outfits. "Listen to this one! It's hilarious!" Johnny was summoned over by Matt, who I vaguely remembered from my years at college. He was a pompous a------ .
"Nice to see you, Ian! You've aged a bit, I see!" Matt came up and shook my hand.
‘If the b------ tries to give me a hug, I'll deck him, heaven or not,’ I thought with a snort.
“I expected those gray sandy puffs from your nose, but not quite so dark and forceful. You always did have a great memory, and it appears you remembered every little slight." That he seemed amused by this was exceedingly annoying.
I didn't have the enjoyment of dwelling on this feeling, however, as I was thrust into the midst of the gaiety immediately. Arnie was at the center of the attention, looking very refreshed. "Didn't need a long nap this time. Listen to this assignment!"
"As soon as I fell asleep, I popped in