Samson tugged on his beard for a few seconds, fuming. “What’s the old man have to say about all this? And where is he?” “No idea on both counts,” Maureen said. “He told me he was goin’ ta’ find answers, and we haven’t heard from ’im since yesterday. Ya’ know how he is, Samson. He’ll show up after things have gone pear-shaped, naked and fartin’ thunderclaps with his wee bits flapping in the wind, no doubt.” “We can hope,” I said under my breath.
Maureen has a way with words
