Still, it do some good. The cold seems to slow down the cooties, or maybe it just that my skin so ashy and frozen, they can’t get none of their devil-spawn teeth into it. My legs feel heavy as iron. I stretch, tryin’ to ease the kinks from them, and my shiftin’ ’bout in the slush make a cracklin’...
Father Dunleavy kicked off the festivities with his address. “No more,” he warned from the podium. “Ragging season is done, boys.” He looked pointedly at a bland-faced Martin. “I expect all of you to treat each other cordially, as professionals and as gentlemen.” Later, he summoned Martin into hi...