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Mickey Spillane

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He was asleep, passed out in the back of the local assisted living dive, the smell of day old java, drifting through the night.  The doll he had been watching, deck out in her white, starched uniform, came down the hall, heels clicking with every step.

 

She was the kind of dame who wouldn't take no for an answer, but when she tried to shake him from his dreams, she realized that this Joe wasn't coming back.