Fuck.I lie naked a moment, then I rise, cock swaying, and test the still existent door. Utterly resistant. Not even a handle. ‘Damn. Where’d you g..., Boston?’No answer’s forthcoming, so I put on a robe and go make coffee, trying tentative wishes en route. I wish I could fuck… you know, this singer, that actress. Nothing. Shouldn’t opt for small stuff anyway, in case I’m not hallucinating. Post-caffeine I shave and shower – give the vivid-dream sensation time to fade. Then I check the bedroom.. I was not worried about the guns as much as I was about the jug of gasoline. I didn't know what fire could do to me, but I figured that I didn't want to find out if I could bypass it.The man with the jug of gasoline was busy spreading it around the yard and pouring it on the bushes. If he was able to set it off, there would probably been a spectacular fire. He might even set the house on fire, so I needed to put a stop to his nonsense as soon as possible. Actually, it was easy. I managed to. More

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