Now, I've never been accused of minding my own business, so this moment was no different. I found myself in the somewhat compromising and yet enviable position of crouching beneath the window over the door where the shout had come from. One glance upward and I easily read the black lettering on the crystalized glass. Lester Patterson, Club President. And, even as my mind processed the name, the voice came through loud and clear.

"I'm done with this conversation, Nortz," ...