His voice stuck horridly in his throat. Wedged into the railing at his feet was a broken five-inch stiletto heel. Thomas Ballentine strode cautiously ...hrough the twisted maze of back alleys behind the shops just off the central boardwalk. The laughter and screams of the annual pirate festival echoed forcefully off of the stone walls, through the dusk, modifying them into something almost surreal. He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the little paper card. Glancing back and forth. "There are three kinds of turds." The man says. There's mustard, custard and you; you little shit.And so the ride went; exchanging jokes. I found out he had worked for the founder of "Jimmy Johns" at his first restaurant.The conversation eventually turned political. I was pretty amazed at his evaluation of the political situation we are in. This man looked like he probably worked at the low end of the pay scale. He was barely presentable with respect to his haircut, shave and cleanliness of. More

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