Nonetheless, the wig fit perfectly. She was also wearing a frumpy, vintage gray dress that might have been in vogue at the height of the Great Depress...on. Her feet were adorned with sensible black Mary Janes, with dated white knee stockings covering the remaining exposed portion of her legs. She'd removed every last bit of makeup from her face, upon which was the crowning touch: a dead-on imitation of the insincere simper that was characteristic of one Kathleen Holliday. At her side was a large. .." "Oh yeah baby? You thiiiiiink uh?" Tyler mocked. Amy stood and whispered into Tyler's ear. "I thiiiink you better take her to the room now. She looks pretty done for the night. Jakey-poo over there doesn't look so great either." "Yeah, I noticed him starting to doze off about half an hour ago..." Tyler said, glancing over at Jacob: his head laid back, mouth open, arms laid out to his side. "Go lay this drunk little thing down," said Amy. "I'm going to tuck my husband in. I'm not. More

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