ATB Boom vs Code 666 'Club House ... ' [CD] { } ~54.00.00 34009

Now she was firmly addicted to sailing. No matter what Nixon might do about selling the country to the oil companies, as long as she could keep the sails of her thirty-foot sloop in repair, Ted knew she would never be bored. It was small enough for her to sail single handed, large enough to go around the world if she felt like it. She finished bagging the Dacron sails, thanking Neptune for the thousandth time that cotton was obsolete and that nobody had to worry about mildew from stowing damp sails any more: After a day's sailing all she had to do now was tie a couple of things down before she went up to the club house at the head of the dock and had a long, soul-satisfying shower. She had just finished tying the boom in its crutch when the PA speaker blatted, "Telephone for Ted Stickles." Now who, she wondered, could that be? Still clad in faded sailing denims, she jumped from the raised-deck sloop to the dock and walked toward the telephone. "Mr. Stickles?" Since Mr. Stickles had been dead for almost five years Ted knew immediately it was either somebody selling something she didn't need or begging something she couldn't really afford to give. "Not exactly," she said. "Oh, you must be Mrs. Stickles." It was a woman's voice. "I'm calling for the Souterrain Hilltop Receiving Home." Ted was tired ...»