Andy put the barrel of the Python against Buddy Lee’s temple. Buddy Lee felt a trickle of blood run down his face and wind its way over his five-o’clock shadow. Andy’s top lip was beginning to swell. His cheek was on fire. A cloudy film seemed to be covering his left eye. The old man had punted him in the face like he was kicking the winning field goal in the Super Bowl.
Where tf is Ike????
