Chapter 8
Despite feeling like death warmed over, Joey knew when he woke up on Friday morning he had to go into work. Another day spent in bed would drive him round the bend. There was also the very real possibility his mother would visit and continue her Jewish equivalent of Florence Nightingale. Joey shuddered at the thought.
Stretching out, Joey soon realised the other side of the bed was unoccupied. Had he slept in? Had Kevin already left for work? A glance at his alarm clock told him it was only 7:30, so where the heck was Kevin?
Sliding his feet into his slippers—Kevin must have left them by the bed—Joey got up, and after siphoning the python, followed his nose into the kitchen.
“Mornin, Pup, what ya doin?” Joey soon realised the smell of kippers, combined with the heavenly od
