So, here I am at Stevie Wonder’s house again. Nope, in the half dozen times I did repair there, never met him. I knew his gigantic Harlequin Great Danes real well though, from the first visit after they had tossed an all nighter party. People were still crashed all over the place. Sofas, chairs, the floor. Two maids were busy cleaning up all the wreckage. A ten button wall phone had been torn off the kitchen wall. No big deal. As I set my tool case down, these big dogs scared the crap out of me, bounding into the kitchen through the garage. I froze like a rusted tin man. One maid said, “Feed ’em this bone here, they’ll love ‘ya for evah!” I took the bone. Both dogs would have jumped off the Empire State building for that bone. I chuck it far into the vast living room. People are yelling and cursing the dogs. I knew a good thing when I saw it. I reached into the sink, grabbed about five big rib bones, tossed them through the doorway. Pandemonium. I snap the cover back on the wall phone base, now reset with new anchor bolts, slide out the back door. I escape…

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