Free Vacation to Die For by Josie Brown

pinky.
    “Ouch, never mind.” Tuggle frowns. Suddenly she notices something about Angie’s bitten backside that brings her up close and personal to it. “Looks like the guy is missing one of his incisors!” 
    What the…?  In unison, Merritt and I turn to stare at her. 
    Tuggle smiles proudly. “I’m a dental assistant. Then again, the tooth might have been broken above the bite line. I guess we’d need a second opinion to know for sure.”
    Not a bad idea. Would it be too obvious if I snapped an iPhoto of it with my cell so that Acme can match the indentations to Doctor Mandrake’s most recent dental records? Like all of the Federal government, the NSA has the best medical coverage our taxes can buy. 
    For that reason alone, we should all work for the NSA. 
    Or get elected to Congress.
    I doubt Angie would bat an eye if I asked. “I’ll take that bet,” I say nonchalantly. “I’ve got a dentist buddy. Mind if I shoot off a picture and text it to him?”
    Just as I thought, Angie is eager to accommodate. She lifts her butt into a porn-worthy pose. 
    The St. Louis trio slam into each other when the first brother stops to gawk.
    I hope Emma isn’t around when Arnie opens this jpeg, or there will be hell to pay.
    Angie stays on her belly, but she turns her head so that she’s facing me. “You’re a sex therapist, right? So, why must some guys bite in order to get it up?”
    Good question. And I’m sure if I really were a real sex therapist, I’d have the answer to that. Instead I have to fake it. “Because they're sick sons of bitches,” I tell her matter-of-factly.
    “Ah! Makes sense.” As she stretches out on the chaise, her bangles clink and tinkle, like Tibetan chimes in a windstorm.
    Two of the brothers nudge each other and wink.
    The smile on Master Biter’s face disappears when he sees the object of their lust.
    Is he Dr. Mandrake? Only his dentist knows for sure. I’ll get Arnie to scope out the good doctor’s employee dental claims. Maybe we’ll hit a match.
    And then Jack and I can take some real time off, together.

Chapter 6
    Missed Connections

    Travel can go right. It can also go terribly wrong.
    It is particularly irksome when one misses one’s plane and has landed too late to make the connection needed to get to one’s final destination.
    If you are that one, here’s how to play catch-up:
    First, throw down the VIP card. And guess what? You don’t have to be a VIP to play! All you have to do is act like one. That means (a) proclaiming loudly that you’ve been inconvenienced in the worst possible way; (b) breaking into the front of the ticketing queue for those getting re-routed; and (c) haranguing the ticket agent for the best seat available. Don’t hesitate to point out that your inconvenience should be mitigated by the provision of a free first-class ticket.
    Next, insist on a golf cart to take you to the gate of your new flight. It doesn’t matter that all the carts are in use. Nor does it matter that you’re not infirm or just plain old. And it certainly doesn’t matter that you’ll be inconveniencing some who are too far from their gates or infirm, or old as Methuselah. What matters is that you make your point—whatever that is. (You’ll have plenty of time to figure that out on your five-mile-an-hour cart ride.)
    Finally, when you actually get onto that other plane, toss a hissy fit about your seat. This lets the flight attendants know you’re not to be messed with again. It also signals your flight’s air marshal that he should have his taser gun ready to stun, the moment one of the flight attendants give him the high sign.
    Should you get tossed from this flight as well, be honest about it with the person picking you up at the other end: 
    Just say you missed your connection.
     

     “Despite the fact that Jack’s not here, shouldn’t we start this shindig?” Abu looks down at his watch. “I’ve got to be back in less than thirty minutes in order to