Fiction | March 01, 1997
E-Z-Roll
Willoughby Johnson
The full text of this story is not currently available online.
Just now, Farris is in the computer room showing off a glamour shot of his daughter. She looks like an ad for an escort service, a ponderous wonderbra-ed decolletage welling up around her feather boa. There is a stamped foil signature in one corner of the picture. She is thirteen, and Farris is a proud papa.
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