..." My lips kept moving but no sound was coming out.I'm a we'll-spoken, articulate person, but I don't handle confrontation well. My thoughts sort of...freeze up on me sometimes, like some of those chat boxes on the internet.He gestured slightly with the cigar at the yellow legal pad in my lap, "Write these down. Juices, we already said that one. And add 'dancing.'" Dancing," I mumbled as I wrote."No more 'dancing eyes,' or 'our tongues danced together this and that' shit."Sounds like a fucking. I need to do some things differently, depending on whether I died in the basement or lab, so I'll describe them separately, starting with the dimensions in which I died in the CIA's care.^A few chapters earlier I described how I'd get my revenge on the DHS and CIA people who'd got away with what had been done to me in the Fort Dodge lab. I wrote that I was just intending to exact revenge in those dimensions where I'd been kidnapped, but on further thought I've decided to enlarge the scope of my. More

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