Chapter (cont'd)
Sam and Simmy sat down to eat their lunch.
Construction son, not usually a poser, had been quite willing to show off his 'battle scars.'
Even Dr. Cymbal-isty had walked in the room and puffed out his chest in a 'man vs. machine' stagger combined with a 'how'd ya fair, son?' head bob. This usually means, in man land, yep, yep, yep, the chicks are going to love this one.
When Simmy had left the house, she'd grabbed some freshly baked cookies to give to 'whoever would fix it.'
After the painful part was over, Construction son had grabbed the package of cookies and plunked them solidly in the hands of Dr. Cymbal. It was better than a chuck on the upper arm and, in that moment, it meant the very same thing.
Thanks Man! AR, AR, AR...
Her phone rang... it was Ed Polish,... "Did you get my message?"
"No, I didn't!" Simmy was in no mood for any brown-nosing and today was another day of 'no compromise.' It just took a little perspective to see things rightly and now... Ed of no more 'con' was back in 'sequence.'
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