You want to dare me, eh? -------------------------------------------------- It was a dark and stormy night; but nobody in the restaurant noticed--all they could see, all they could focus on, was the chef's knife sticking out of the chest of that very same chef. He'd stumbled into the dining room a moment before--lurching like a drunk man--and now lay dead at their feet. "Check, please", I said, as the sound of thunder and a string of curses from the general direction of the kitchen added to the din. I didn't really mean to rabbit. But, my friends, can you imagine my horror at being present at the site of a murder--me being on the lam and all. You pass a few bad checks its no big deal. But when you've got both the Mob AND the Feds on your tail, you don't want to be Johnny-on-the-Spot when Pierre gets a knife in his gut. Dammit Jon, how many times do I have to tell you, no plagiarizing entire sections of Bobby Gold!