Not surprisingly, Livingston P. Lovechild proved to be a crashing bore. Not to mention a fool, a madman, or some combination of the two. But on the other hand he insisted on buying every round, so who was Harry Beachcroft to be critical? Every nickel Harry saved on bock this present snowy evening was another bock he could drink at some future time, and bock was Harry's spiritual reward for his daily ten pages of writing, and his gift to himself for surviving yet another day in this vale of tears that men laughably called "life"…"So you agree about the Rosicrucians then?" said Livingston P. Lovechild."I'm sorry, what?" said Harry."You agree about the Rosicrucians?""Oh, sure, um, uh –"Harry suddenly blanked on the man's name in its entirety, first, middle initial, and last name."Livingston," said the man. "Livingston P. Lovechild, but again I implore you to address me by my Christian name.""Okay," said Harry."If Livingston can in fact be called a Christian name.""Um," said Harry."But,…
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