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It was Mrs. Jenkins. Of course once she offered a ride I happily accepted. She asked if I wanted to go straight to her house and hang out for an hour ...efore they had to go, instead of hanging out at home. I figured, sure, why not? I got in the car and looking Mrs. Jenkins up and down. She was definitely in work clothes, but I’d figure I should ask if she was on her way home from work anyway. She responded yes with a gorgeous smile. Mrs. Jenkins was the women that every guy new the husband was. Perhaps you’ll even have a future in politics again, but don’t count on it. You have some bloody, nasty work to do. Now, report to Lord Azrael, the Destroyer. He has taken over from Lord Abaddon some time back. Run along. Don’t make me come after you,” I dismissed Rudy curtly.I then slipped away to make a little detour to Peachtree, Georgia, a rare exception to my recent ruling on the Bible Belt, namely to avoid it until after the Rapture. I knew exactly where I was going, of course. There was. More

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