I am angry. Bastard. Anytime, anywhere, it doesn’t matter, does it? What the hell am I, a blowup doll, for chrissakes? A toy — a plaything. I know...what I’m good for. ‘James! No! Not here!’ My voice is a hiss, venomous with my thoughts. Ineffectively I try batting your hands away, and you growl at me. Animal. I know that tone, and still, I fight, knowing I am making you angry. Good. I have my own mind, my own wants, and my own needs. I tear away from you, and turning to you I see the surprise in. The doorbell rang. To say I was surprised to see Derek Baxter standing on my stoop would be a tremendous understatement!"Mr. Hardison, could I please have a few moments of your time?" requested the slime ball. "I have come to negotiate a deal with you and your wife." I guess we can listen to what you have to say, but I think I already have a pretty good idea what you want," I replied confidently as I held the door open. "I think we're holding all the cards in this hand. You're used to being the. More

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