eric boyd


Beth Wolpert was bragging about her son James’s old high school accomplishments again. Sitting at the VFW, waiting for another Natural Ice, she went on about how he won senior class president, how handsome he was and how many girls she used to catch him with when he thought she was working. “Once,” she started, “he had three girls in the basement, two blonds and a brunette—no shit—all of ‘em naked as the day they was born!” she laughed.