"We're going to be married. We're trying very hard to have a baby." All at once there is nothing but his asshole between Gravity and Roger... She flips a red lever on her intercom. Far away a buzzer goes off.... in through the screen door of the Quonset office with a smell of tide flats come the coppers, looking grim. Security. her magic word, her spell against demons... Who saves him... Why, Jeremy himself. Old Beaver shows up and waves off the heat, who; go surly, fangflashing back to masturbating into Crime Does Not Pay. Comics... Jessica at the last minute is overcome by some fictitious female syndrome... So that leaves the fellas alone, to talk briskly about Operation Backfire, which is the British program to assemble some a4s and fire them out into the North Sea... "Why?" Roger keeps asking, trying to piss Jeremy off. "Why do you want to put them together and fire them?"... "We've captured them, haven’t we? What does one do with a rocket?" "But why?" "Why Damn it, to see obviously. Jessica tells me you’re- ah- a math chap?" "Little sigma, times P of s-over-little-sigma, equals one over the square root of two pi, times e to the minus s squared over two little sigma squared." Roger is invited to dinner in the evening, an intimate informal party oat the home of Stefan Utgarthaloki.


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