Sketch: Volume 10, Issue 4
THE room whirled into focus as I gently nudged old Pal aside and looked hopefully at the short squat figure of Dad in the easy chair. But he was asleep, his mouth hanging wide and empty, and his fingers intertwining across his chest, chopping his breathing into irregular snores...
JANEY dashed in from the kitchen to stop the insistent telephone. In her hand she was still gripping the wooden spoon. "Darn that phone!" she muttered...