A/N: Wow, this one is short, and so much is revealed (emotion-wise, the mystery itself just gets a little more confusing).
Thanks to the reviewers (there are sooooo many this time):
DarkAngelGuadianLight: EX-WIFE?!?! He's only twenty-five, and he's always been with Spinelli...did he get married behind her back? OHMYGOD! He got married behind her back! Bad TJ! HAHAHA! You're fun.
Momo-chan: Sorry about the cliffhangers...mm...yeah, pretty much everyone is in love with Spinelli...well, besides Mikey, Gus, Randall, all the Ashleys, Theresa, definitely Gretchen, and um...Phil, and, let's see...all the hospital staff, Mrs. Dettwieler's not really in love with her, um...the psycho (from what we can tell)...uh...am I missing anyone? Oh, and that other national guard officer.
TNPD: Get off the edge of your seat, you might fall. I know I have before.
pixievix: long time no review! I appreciate that you like my story so much though!
mischeif-maker: you read and reviewed all my fanfics, what is there to say to you besides a big WOW! I'd say holy shit, but I don't think that's very polite at this moment. Maybe I will tomorrow.
RavenForever: You can have Francis so long as I get TJ. Randall...hm...let's review, he works for a private sector of the CIA, which basically mean license to kill. But that little comment in ch. 20 is explained later.
xXxSarahxXx: Yeah, great, they're all in one place, makes 'em easier to kill...none of that hunting them down stuff going on...hehe...er...who's Clara? Anyone, anyone? Ooo...Ferris Bueller moment...um...read on and FIND OUT!
Oh, and a little game for you to think about: I'll give a prize to whoever finds the connection (in the actual Recess series) between Mrs. Dettwieler and Miss Finster, and a slap in the head to anyone who says TJ as the answer, or anything equally obvious and idiotic.
Oh, and I decided to start recommending music to listen to while you read the chapter. For this one...um...I'd go with either Breathe by Melissa Etheridge, Halo by Oleander, or All Eyes On Me by the Goo Goo Dolls.
OKAY. On your mark, get set, ENJOY!
Chapter 21: Words Within Words
Vince thought about knocking on the door before entering. He wasn't certain what he should do. If he knocked, he'd be sent away, almost assuredly. If he just barged in, he'd be yelled at then most definitely sent away. But at least barging in guaranteed him a chance to see Spinelli. He sighed, torn between two decisions that basically whittled down to a more complex a decision. Should he talk to her or not? He looked down at his feet, studying the large tennis shoes he wore.
TJ. Vince had gone to see TJ with Francis, watched as they rushed him through the ER, as a doctor and staff of nurses took over. They were saying things that Vince didn't understand, talking about his medical condition and what drugs to give him and what needed to be looked at. Vince had watched until he couldn't stomach it anymore, turning away. Blood, there was a lot of blood. They had to take x-rays, give him a blood transfusion. They were lucky. TJ had a rare blood type and the hospital happened to have one match.
When he couldn't stand it any longer, Vince had left for the restroom to clean himself up. Somehow, he'd gotten tears in his eyes, and across his face. Why did it bother him so much? He hated TJ. He hated TJ. He...did he? He'd been so worried, been so afraid, all for a man that he'd claimed to hate for the longest time. We'd been best friends once, he reassured himself, he was just used to feeling that way. Lingering feelings of friendship weren't uncommon if you'd been as close as TJ and him had. TJ had taken Spinelli. He'd gone behind Vince's back and took her. Stole her. Vince nodded. Yeah, that was how it was. He felt someone tugging on his shirt and looked down. A small young boy looked up at him with wide eyes, ruffled hair, a red cap.
"Hello there," Vince greeted, kneeling down, "Are you looking for someone?"
"Are you 'Invincible' Vincent LaSalle?" the little boy asked. "Can I have your autograph?""No, I'm not," Vince told him. The little boy looked confused.
"But you look like him."
"I get that a lot, it's not me," he told the boy. The little boy turned away, angrily, shuffling back from where he'd come, most likely back to his parents.
Vince frowned. He was supposed to just be himself back at home, not some basketball superstar. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy's feelings or disappoint him; Vince just wanted to be himself, not some celebrity. He didn't want to be the 'Invincible' Vincent LaSalle; he just wanted to be good ol' Vince. He stood to face the door again and return to his prior ponderings, but it swung open, Gretchen standing in front of him. She was wearing a hospital gown, and her hair was wet. She looked taken aback when she saw him standing there, and then stood her ground again, frowning at him.
"Spinelli's gone," she informed him.
"Gone? Again?" he cried frantically, "I have to get..." Gretchen rolled her eyes.
"She went to see TJ," Gretchen said matter-of-factly, bitingly. Vince lowered his eyes. It stung.
"She alright?" Vince asked.
"No," Gretchen muttered, "But you try telling her to lay down and rest when she wants to do something else. I mean, the drugs worked for a short time, but when she woke up she was gone..."
"Oh...are you alright?"
"Hun..." Gretchen snorted, "So you did notice I existed despite Spinelli's current situation."
"What?" Vince narrowed his eyes at her, "I never..."
"Cared? Yeah, I got that," Gretchen interjected vindictively, she turned back into the room, looked over her shoulder, "Come on." Vince followed her, shutting the door behind him. Gretchen sat on one of the beds, eyeing Vince with casual observance. "She's not made of glass, Vince," Gretchen finally said.
"And she's not invincible either, despite what she may think," Vince spat back. Gretchen smirked spitefully at him.
"You really are a masochist, you know that?" Gretchen told him, shaking her head.
"I am not," Vince argued, but not quite sure what she was getting at.
"You're in love with someone who is in love with someone else, and you constantly pursue her despite the fact you are only setting yourself up for hurt. I've come to wonder if you do it because you like it, which would make you a masochist...either that or you're just stupid," Gretchen clarified, leaning back and staring up at him. He just stood, shocked and miserable.
"Spinelli can't love TJ," Vince attempted.
"Oh, but she does. And, quite honestly Vince, you aren't handling this situation very well. In fact, you're coming off as the jerk."
"Gee, thanks." Vince snorted sarcastically.
"Vince, think about it. She loves TJ. She woke up looking for him, not you. She went out in the storm, dove into floodwater to save him, not you. She's cried and threatened and been absolutely miserable because she thinks she's lost him, not you," Gretchen shook her head, "Need I go on?"
"What do you want me to say? That it matters? That you're right, all mighty Gretchen, all knowing Gretchen? Don't you think I know all of that? I just...I wanted to have..." Vince slumped next to Gretchen, at a loss for words. "I knew. The whole time I knew how TJ felt. Back when I told him that I had a crush on Spinelli, I could see it so clearly in his eyes, this turmoil. It felt...gratifying? I'd beat him. I was so selfish back then. Now that I had told him how I felt for Spinelli, he couldn't make a move for her and I could, because I had staked my claim and he hadn't." Gretchen's lips parted slightly, her eyes narrowing at Vince in obvious realization.
"You knew how TJ felt...that he was...that he liked Spinelli?"
"Yeah...I did...but I didn't register it. Not back then; I didn't know why I was doing what I was doing. I wanted to win, Gretchen, I couldn't lose. Not even to my best friend, not even so he could be happy."
"And Spinelli?"
"I knew how she felt back then too...but I wanted to win...or no one could."
"Vince, that's awful." He closed his eyes, lowered his head in shame, tears squeezing out down his cheeks.
"I know...I was selfish...so damn selfish. And then, when my life wasn't working out the way I wanted. No girlfriend, no one to love or come home to at night, I blamed TJ. And it just got easier blaming him for everything," Vince went on, "When I saw Spinelli again, she looked so...unchanged, and beautiful. She looked like a savior, my savior. She could rescue me from my life, from this horrible life that I carved out for myself. Take me back to a childhood when I was happy. I'm miserable Gretchen. I live each day wishing I didn't wake up the next morning. It's getting harder to pull myself out of bed. It's getting harder to face that crowd.
"A cheering crowd of fans screaming that they love me and worship me, and not one that knows me, knows the real me. Even my teammates don't know me. I wanted to go back...that's why I came here every weekend. Sure, I wanted to see my parents, but I was more looking...looking for something that would wake me up from this dream and return me to my life as a fourth grader at Third Street, where I'd run around with my friends outside, sip milkshakes at Kelso's, watch Senor Fusion and Beanie McChimp and all the great cartoons on Saturday morning...something..."
"Vince...I didn't know..."
"Out there, when I'm on the court, and the fans are cheering loudly, I imagine that they're not cheering for the superstar they see running around, passing the ball and shooting hoops, I imagine they're kids on a playground and they're cheering me on. And that somewhere, in that crowd, are these kids that know me, the real me, who I really am. It gets me through the game, through the day..."
"Vince..." He seemed to awaken from a trance then, wiping his eyes, shaking his head, looking at her owlishly.
"I'm sorry, Gretch...I just..."
"It's okay, Vince, I know what you mean. I don't exactly have a crowd of cheering fans, but I do have colleagues and a non-existent life outside of the lab," Gretchen told him, "But no one who gets me, no one who understands that science isn't my life, more so my passion. I've often recollected my childhood memories in miserable nostalgia." Gretchen stared down at her open palms, tracing their lines and contours, "No one ever has the same close relationships that they had in their childhood, because adult humans can't psychologically connect on that level. They have to be practical and mature. Emotions become more complex, not as simple as when you're a child. At least, that's my hypothesis on the matter."
"I guess...it was also...I mean, TJ was always better with people. Everyone loved him. Girls loved him. He could have had almost any girl he wanted. He had so much potential to do anything he wanted and me...I was so jealous. Girls liked me, yeah, but because I was a jock and I guess good-looking. They couldn't get past those superficial things to who I really was. Spinelli understood me, she knew who I really was and she always brought me back down when my head got big. When I found out that TJ was with her...everybody knew who he was, who he really was. He didn't need Spinelli, he could have had anyone and they'd all understand him, but Spinelli...she was all I had," Vince looked to the far wall as though searching for answers to questions he couldn't ask, "I lost. TJ won."
"Whatever," Gretchen snapped, pulling herself to her feet, walking away from him in search of her clothes.
"What?" Vince demanded, cautious of her new behavior. Gretchen reeled on him, eyes flaring.
"You're so full of shit, Vince. I thought Mikey was the dramatic one, but apparently I was wrong," Gretchen snarled, "Oh...nobody loves me, nobody understands. Jesus, Vince, you're such a crybaby." Vince furrowed his brows, confused.
"What? What are you talking about, just a moment ago..."
"You keep talking about Spinelli like she's some goddamned goddess," Gretchen snapped, "Like she's little Miss Perfect and can make everything better. Why is everyone falling for Spinelli? She's a violent tomboy with an attitude problem! She's short...repugnant, volatile, rude, obnoxious..."
"Gretch...I don't understand. She was your best friend...why do you feel so strongly about her?"
"Why? Because everyone is going on and on about how great she is and no one seems to realize what she truly is. A bitch, a genuine bitch. She has you all fooled," Gretchen shook her head, breaking into tears, "And I guess they just look right through me. Always have..." She turned from him, covering her face with her hands, crying softly, "I might as well be glass or just plain invisible the way no one sees me."
"You're jealous of Spinelli?"
"Yeah, I am! Why wouldn't I be? Look at her! She doesn't realize that she's got guys groveling for her attention, really attractive guys, she's too busy trying to win TJ back! She could just forget TJ and have her pick of any great guy and be just as well off...but me? I've never even been asked out on a date, let alone had a guy glance at me! No one would give me the time of day!"
"Gretchen, how can you be jealous of Spinelli? You're smart, you have a lot going for you."
"Smart, yes, the smart girl. Me, yeah...great, I'm smart. Other than that, I'm no one."
"You're not a no one. I can see you, I'm not looking through you."
"You did, and you keep doing it. It's worse with you, because you do it and don't even realize that you are," Gretchen sobbed, glaring at him now, "Spinelli's the only one who ever got you? That's what you really think? Spinelli was your only chance, all you had? Spinelli always brought you back? And what the hell am I? Just a part of the background?"
"Oh...oh god...Gretchen," Vince cried out in realization, "I didn't know..."
"Didn't know? I liked you Vince, there was a time the smart girl had feelings and was human. She wasn't just a brain with legs and glasses," Gretchen closed her eyes, "But you were too busy trying to impress Spinelli and drag her away from TJ that you never realized."
"I'm sorry, I..."
"You never noticed me! You never cared! I was a nobody to you," Gretchen screamed. She fell silent, trying to compose herself and Vince was uncertain of what to say. Finally, in a small whisper, she spoke again, "Leave. I want to be alone." Vince nodded, standing. He made his way to the door, reached for the doorknob, and stopped, staring blankly at the nice white obstruction.
"6th grade," Vince finally said, and Gretchen eyed him curiously, "I saw you waiting. You had your hair tied up and new braces...and you were wearing this dress. It was red and there was a yellow design. The sun was behind you and you looked so...pretty. You looked like a goddess...an angel," He turned slightly, meeting her eyes that were so cold and dead, filled with anger and hate, "I...I couldn't get close to you, Gretchen. You never let anyone...I thought I wasn't good enough for you; that you'd never fall for a stupid jock. You were never a nobody to me, Gretchen, you'll never be a nobody to me. I'm sorry. Sometimes things don't happen. In a perfect world...hell, what's the use?" He left the room, Gretchen watching the door close, feeling her heart sink, break and shatter.
-0-0-0-0-
Spinelli sat down in a chair beside TJ's bed, glancing at him every now and then. He was silent, considering how to word what he had to say. She wanted to speak up, to tell him to forget it, that she wanted to forgive him no matter what, and that she loved him. But she couldn't. She wanted to tell him how it hurt her, him breaking up with her, wanted to tell him how upset she'd been, that she wanted things back to normal. But she didn't. She just sat patiently, picking at lint on her hospital gown.
"I'm not perfect," TJ started, his voice so soft and silent, "I screwed everything up. I wish I had...that we had never come back here."
"It's my fault," Spinelli broke in, "I forced you to come here, 'cause I had to fight in that damned tournament."
"Don't, Spinelli. Don't put any blame on yourself," TJ told her, "I made this mess. I should have known...I should have seen..."
"What, Teej? Known what?"
"Clara," he whispered, and she could feel her heart thump.
"Who is she? Who is Clara?"
"She's not Clara," he muttered, "She's not...she's Mary Anna...I think."
"But who is she?"
"The doll...that was the name of the doll," TJ struggled, thinking things through again.
"Teej..."
"She's the one, Spinelli, the one that's been doing all of this, she has to be. The picture...I need the picture," he seemed to look around him, then closed his eyes, "Where are my clothes?"
"Um...over there," Spinelli got up, made her way to a table where TJ's clothes were laid out. They were soaked, dirty.
"In the pocket, of my jeans," he told her. She reached in, pulled out some damp money, his wallet, and what appeared to have been a picture. She handed it to him.
"It's ruined," she explained, "Must have happened while you were in the water." He nodded. "Who's Clara? You know her, don't you?"
"Yes. I can't believe I couldn't see it...blonde curls...brown eyes," TJ turned away from Spinelli who'd retaken her seat, "Chief's secretary, Clara."
"I know her," Spinelli narrowed her eyes at him, "I think. Blonde curls...she said she worked for High Society...she's in my painting class. She's not very good at it. She's that bitch that always gives me trouble when I call?" She stood up again, making her way for the door, "I have to go tell the others. We can go to the police or something now..."
"Spinelli," TJ whispered. She paused, "I slept with her." Spinelli had to grip the door for support, her knees weakening, her heart fluttering. She felt lightheaded, lost, tears springing to her eyes. He might as well have shot her. Her breathing was shaky, unsteady.
"What?" she whispered, hoping, praying, pleading that those words didn't mean what she thought they did.
"Do you really want me to say it?" TJ asked, his voice hoarse, a broken whisper.
"No. Did you enjoy it?"
"God, Spinelli..." he moaned, not even wanting to think about that.
"Why are you telling me this?
"Because, you need to know."
"No, I don't," she turned to him, frustration and anger burning on her face, "Lie to me, Teej. Tell me it never happened; tell me it's a joke. Lie to me."
"I can't," he murmured, "I can't..."
"Yes you can, you lie to me all the time. You lie about everything. Lie about this," she screamed, "Lie to me, Teej. Tell me a lie! I don't want to know about this, I don't want the truth, I want a lie."
"Not about this, Spinelli. I screwed up. I was drunk...but that doesn't matter," he shook his head, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Spinelli couldn't stop the world from spinning, couldn't stop her world from slipping. Her lip, trembling, her voice lost in the confusion. She wanted to vomit, to cry, to throw something across the room, to scream at TJ, make him take the words back, erase it all.
"When?" she whispered. She had to know; she had to know everything, even as it ripped her apart, she had to know.
"After Kelso's...after you ran off..."
"You broke up with me what...an hour before you screwed her?" Spinelli laughed resentfully.
"No...I don't know..." TJ sighed, "I'm sorry."
"You keep saying that, Teej, and you also keep saying you don't want me to forgive you. You can't be sorry for something you don't want to be forgiven for, it doesn't work that way. Is she pretty?"
"What? I don't think that..."
"I asked if she was pretty. Is she prettier than me?"
"She's okay looking, I guess...she's not you."
"She was a satisfactory substitute though, huh?"
"Spin..."
"I'm gonna ask you again, Teej. Did you enjoy it?"
"I...I was drunk, Spinelli, I don't know."
"Did you enjoy fucking the bitch?" Spinelli cried. TJ flinched. They were harsh words.
"I..." he tried thinking about it. Did he? Had he enjoyed it? He tried thinking back to that night, back to what had happened. He couldn't really remember. For the most part it was all a blur. "I..." he tried again. He had been thinking about her, about the misery he'd cause her, about what he'd done to her, he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing. "I can't Spinelli, I can't...I don't know. I don't think I cared." Spinelli shook her head.
"I have to get out of here," she muttered, making her way to the door.
"Spinelli..."
"Don't call me that. You can't call me that."
"I've always called you that." She didn't say anything. "What do I call you?"
"You can call me Ashley," she spat, flinging the door open, "If anything at all." TJ silently watched her leave, shutting the door behind her. She stormed down the hallway, past Francis talking on his phone. He called after her, but it was useless. She ran down the halls, wondering if she could leave the hospital, wanting to leave the hospital. She wanted to go home, somewhere where she could feel safe, somewhere where she could feel like a child, like a small child. Somewhere where she could feel like her self. At that moment, though, she didn't really care where she went, as long as it was somewhere she could cry.
-0-0-0-0-
Francis opened the door to TJ's room, peeked his head in.
"What did you say to her?" he demanded, discovering TJ lying awake. TJ said nothing, staring up at the ceiling, silent. Francis shook his head, crossing the room angrily. "I asked what you said to her? What did you do?"
"Why does it matter to you?" TJ asked, refocusing on Francis.
"Ashley is my friend and when she storms out of a room upset it matters to me," he snapped, "She came in here hoping to make amends with you but you..."
"I don't think you're understanding things, Francis," TJ mumbled, "She deserves someone better."
"Who out there is better for her?" Francis demanded, "Who knows her better than you? You really think she'll be better off with some jerk that can't make her happy?"
"I keep hurting her, Francis, I keep messing things up," TJ hissed, "I screwed up big time. What makes you think I can make her happy?"
"Does what I think really matter?" Francis sneered, "You're the lucky one, Dettwieler, you're the one she chose. You're the one she wanted to be with. You're the only one she ever wanted to be with. If that doesn't make you deserving of being with her, what the hell does?"
"Why are you even here, Francis? Why are you trying to make everything better? You've always wanted to be with her, here's your chance," TJ spat.
"You're wrong. You'll always be the one she wants, and I don't want to live in your goddamned shadow. Think what you want, but it doesn't change facts. You'll always be the one in her heart, the one she thinks of every minute of every fucking day. No one will ever fit with her the way you did," Francis shook his head, turning to leave, "When'll you figure that out? When it's too late? I feel sorry for you, I really do. You had what other people dream of, your soul mate. No long years searching, no painful nights alone, she was right there beside you all along. And you threw it all away." He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Francis shook his head, looked to Ashley Q. leaning against the wall. She was watching him curiously.
"How's Ashley T.?" he asked.
"Her injuries are superficial," Ashley Q. answered solemnly, "And Gus is fine too. A little eccentric, but fine." She pushed away from the wall, met his eyes, "What's it like to be in love?"
"You're married," Francis chuckled, "I would think you'd know that already." She shrugged, looked away.
"Every night I lie awake waiting for my husband to come home and ask myself that question," she told him, "I figured you would know."
"In case you haven't noticed I'm not exactly sporting a shiny gold band around my finger," Francis muttered. He looked at her, frowning slightly, eying the tile, silent, "It hurts like hell."
"Do you think Spinelli will be alright?"
"No," Francis shrugged, walking away, "But that's never stopped her before."
"I'm sorry I'm such a bitch," Ashley Q. called after him, "I guess that's why I've never been in love."
"That's not why you've never been in love," Francis mumbled, "There just ain't a lot of great guys out there to fall in love with."
"For what it's worth, I think you're a great guy," Ashley Q. told him.
"And yet, I'm alone," Francis chuckled, "I have to go find...I guess I'll go talk to Randall, find out what happened. I'll see you."
-0-0-0-0-
Mikey walked with Gus down the hallway towards the maternity ward. He held onto Gus's hand, leading him, glancing at him every now and then, scared. Gus was blind and a little delirious. Theresa had demanded to see her husband, despite the dissuasion of Ashley A. who claimed the man wasn't in the right condition. Poor Theresa, Mikey thought, stopping just outside the room Theresa was in.
"Are you ready, Gus?" Mikey asked, but received no answer. With a sigh, and a gentle heave, Mikey swung the door open and entered, leading Gus. Theresa looked up when they walked in. She was sitting in a chair dressed in clean dry clothes, a blanket draped over her shoulders. A nurse was sitting beside her, directing her through breast-feeding. Theresa smiled slightly.
"Will you take her?" Theresa asked the nurse, handing the small baby over to outstretched arms. The nurse left the room, a slight nod of her head at Mikey and Gus. Theresa struggled to stand, smiling apologetically at the two men.
"I'm still getting used to the weight being gone," she explained.
"Theresa, I don't think it's a good idea, Gus being here," Mikey spoke up, determined to voice his opinion. She nodded at him, acknowledging his words, but wasn't listening. She stepped forward, faced her husband.
"Gus?" she whispered. He pouted, trembling, tears forming in his eyes.
"No..."
"Gus," she tried again, "Speak to me."
"No..." Theresa frowned. Mikey hadn't the time to stop her, hearing only the crack as her hand slapped across Gus's face.
"Snap out of it, soldier," she commanded with all the force of a naval officer.
"Theresa, what's gotten into you?" Mikey cried out, reaching for Gus, "Beating him won't..."
"Theresa..." Gus mumbled, blinking as though waking from a long slumber. Mikey backed off. Gus looked to his wife, his cheeks damp, his bottom lip trembling, "Theresa?" Her small hand snaked behind his neck, gently pulling him towards her. He lay his forehead on her shoulder, sobbing.
"It's alright, Gus," she soothed, holding him, kissing him, "You're safe now. It's alright." He wrapped his arms about her, pulling back to meet her eyes.
"I missed you," he whispered, "I couldn't find you. I kept looking..."
"I know, love," she told him, brushing the tears from his eyes, "But I'm here now." She brushed her lips against his, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach, "I'm going to be here from now on."
"Oh god, Theresa," Gus moaned, pulling away, turning his back on her, "So many things...so much happened...I have to...they have to know."
"Okay," Theresa told him, her hand gently touching his back, "Okay..."
"So we're finally going to get answers?" Mikey sighed, anxious, "I'll get everyone together." He left the room in a hurry, leaving behind the two lovers. Gus shuddered slightly, receiving a curious glance from his wife. The room wasn't really cold, in fact, it was kind of hot in there.
"I'm sorry," he told her, his voice breaking with a sob.
"For what?"
"The doll."
END A/N: oi.oi. So short. So sadly short...hm...so we got fights going on between people, my favorite conversation would be the one between Vince and Gretchen, I loved that part. I like to read over it again and again just to feel the sad emotions that it gives me...I read it aloud sometimes with all the anger and pent up sadness...sigh.
I don't want to hear anymore Poor Spin going on. That bitch has three guys in love with her...even if the one she really loves keeps pushing her away, and slept with another woman....awww.....poor spin...
In case you're wondering, or just haven't figured it out yet, I'm a sucker for TJ torture. BIG sucker for TJ torture. The hottest pic of a guy I've ever seen is from Juvenile Orion (manga) and the two main characters are all bandaged up and bloody. That's how I like my TJ. This laying down in a bed thing is...no wait, that works too. Hehe....oi...I'm a sick sadist, leave me.
Er....please REVIEW and excuse any grammatical and typing errors.
Thanks for reading. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good-bye 'till it be NEXT UPDATE!