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The phone call jingled me out of the first decent dream I’d had in months. Instead of grappling with Japs in the stinking, maggot infested mud of Okinawa I was twisting the sheets with the new redheaded doll that waited my table at Joella’s Diner last night. And this dish was a helluva lot tastier than Joella’s chicken-fried steak and gravy special. The phone rang again. Red took a powder, vanishing and leaving me twisted and sweating in the rack all by my lonesome. I wormed out of the damp sheets and sat on the side of the rollaway bed. Five forty-two according to the clock on the stand ticking away my life second by second. I grabbed the receiver and grunted, “This better be good.”
“Dinger, what’s your lazy ass still doing in bed at this ungodly hour of the morning?”
“I was nailing a beautiful redhead, if you…
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