Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

exclaimed when she first heard my voice, and promptlyburst into tears of joy. I'm afraid I wept, too, at the sound ofmy darling's voice. In any case, all is well at the house. Thedogs are almost housebroken though there are stilloccasional accidents, particularly on the new curtains in theliving room. Mary-Ann continues her singing lessons andattends the Academy where I am much missed. Buckinquires daily about my health and Dr. Montag is coming tosee me tomorrow. The driver of the car that struck me hasnot yet been apprehended. The police hope for me to givethem some clue but I cannot. I have no memory of anythingonce the dog ran up the garden walk. Apparently I wasstruck from behind. Was it an accident, or was it... who?Rusty? Buck? I am suddenly filled with suspicion. Twoweeks ago I was almost run over in front of Larue's. Acoincidence? Well, if either of those sons-of-bitches didthis to me I will have his God-damned head or my name isnot Myron Breckinridge!40The room is filled with the smell of Randolph's pipe. Acrossthe floor, burnt-out cinders indicate his various maneuvers.He was in good form. So am I, despite constant headachesand the odd sensation that my legs are filled with burningpins. Fortunately the cast will be removed tomorrow. To mysurprise, Randolph did not think me paranoid when I toldhim my suspicions. "It crossed my mind, too," he said,sucking at his pipe. "It could very well have been Rusty's