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And it is also at this time of night, for reasons unbeknownst to the scientists, that strangers choose to enter peopleÕs homes unannounced and do evil things. It is during this pre-supper sŽance then that the stranger, who has decided against being detected in the bondage sm elevator and has climbed sixteen flights, enters our apartment and silently, stealthily, creeps, quietly, whisperly behind my mother and waits. His presence my mother and I are unaware of. I have lied to you, reader. My motherÕs name is not Martha Harris. I have lied and I apologize for it. My motherÕs name bondage sm is, in fact, Martha Finklestein. I am sketchy on the details, because my mother is sketchy on the details, but sometime during World War II when my mother was about ten years old and living in Mount Vernon, New York, her father decided that his eldest son would have an easier go at finding a job if he was not so obviously Jewish.
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