But hearing mom even mention it the way that she had was again uncharacteristic for her. Admitting to me, that the two of them had had an early morning romp again, and especially after having obviously done so the night before was beyond my imagination. Especially for my own parents."Bella again," I thought. "How the hell does she do it anyway?" And I again thought back to the 'finger' thing she and mom had so briefly shared. I made a mental note to ask her about that, though I wouldn't be too terribly surprised if she didn't tell me the reason behind it."Anyway, already gave Irene the night off, so you and Bella will need to fend for yourselves this evening. Not that I'm sure you'll mind terribly. Plus, it will give the two of you a chance to have some alone time as well, without your dad or I crimping your style ... or hers," she giggled again. She then stood suddenly. "Well, I'm off for a day of pampering thanks to your dad. A manicure, pedicure, facial and bikini wax," she said. He didn't see anything "Great" about it only endless puddles of mud and mire that sucked boots off the feet and dried up into clumps of rock-hard consistency. The idiot who had drawn the map had misspelled or forgotten the "e" in place and he looked at the strange-looking "Plac" like it was an accusing finger chastising him for his acceptance of the map at face value.The map had been delivered to him by a subordinate he trusted but now that he was beyond the point of no return he realized he had been duped by a probable loyalist sympathizer who had laughed at the thought of the fatal stranding over a thousand souls in the middle of a swamp. He could see the little weasel right now sitting in a Tory ale house raising his mug to the King and shouting out,"Death to the Rebel bastards!"The circumstances were mind-boggling what with the leaking boats hastily constructed with limited skills, the food rotting in the swamped bilges and the men coming down with the inevitable dysentery that.
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