My Little Noisy Book of Kittens

And lastly, I was pioneering a scam that was so implausible, so seemingly impossible and so brass-balled blatant that it worked. In the last months of my adventures, I ran into a Continental captain with whom I had deadheaded a couple of times. It was a tense moment for me, but he dispelled it with the warmth of his greeting. Then he laughed and said, БЂњYou know, Frank, I was talking to a Delta stewardess a couple of months ago and she said you were a phony. I told her that was bullshit, that youБЂ™d handled the controls of my bird. WhatБЂ™d you do to that girl, boy, kick her out of bed?БЂ«My adventures. The first few years thatБЂ™s exactly what they were for me, adventures. Adventures in crime, of course, but adventures nonetheless. I kept a notebook, a surreptitious journal in which I jotted down phrases, technical data, miscellaneous information, names, dates, places, telephone numbers, thoughts and a collection of other data I thought was necessary or might prove helpful. It was a combination log, textbook, little black book, diary and airline bible, and the longer I operated, the thicker it became with entries ...»