The boys spent yet another night propped on the brass rail. Christner drank, played pool, and hit on women. The man didn't wobble as much as the last time, but they still had beer spilled on them.
Again they were on the floor at the foot of the bed. Again they were washed, dried, folded, and put in the drawer by the nice lady, Pretty Shanks.
The next time the twins left the drawer must have been Monday, because before Christner went to work Pretty said, "Good luck with the new account. Knock 'em dead."
"You sound like my mother."
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