Go!
Wells arrived home from a successful ‘gig’ with his band a little after midnight.
“Where is your birth certificate?”
“Look at my blisters,” he responded while proudly showing me his fingertips. “We really played hard.”
“Very nice – we need the birth certificate.”
“The YMCA took in more than $600 because of us. They paid us $200!”
“Certificate. NOW!”
Wells beat a hasty retreat to his room. I could hear him rummaging for a while before he popped back into my office.
“My fingers really hurt.”
“So do mine. Where is it?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find it.”
“Well if you…

