I ran into a friend of Jeremy Dundon, and I blurted out he had unfriended me. Turns out they are friends. He asked me why I don’t get along with the Dundons, anymore. I refrained from telling this stranger the truth, that goes like this; “I was a bright shiny thing in their midst. I was the real gifted one! But, this could not be, after I was open and verbal about my fourteen year old sister screwing a twenty-four year old Vietnam Vet, posing as a hippie! Jim Dundon was putting Vickie Dundon’s girlfriends to work in his leather sweat-shop he ran out of the Dundon residence!

His son, Shamus Dundon, could not stop telling me lies, after I caught him in the first one. To protect the Dundon Clan, here and abroad, they had to lower my I.Q. numbers seventy points, because they made a point to surround themselves with Irish morons in Rhode Island. They began to believe their own lies, and became as dumb as a bag of hammers. You could talk about the Presco Family secrets, and have a good laugh, but, you could not mention that old man Dundon was an Irish lush, who married Rosemary, a manic depressive. Right now, I feel so daring letting this truth out. The Dundon Clan will whittle me down to size – if I still let them.”

In the top photo we see Jeremy;s father, Michael Dundon, with Christine. He takes credit for Christine’s success, as does Jim, because they brought Industry to the Prescos. On her fifteenth birthday, Jim gave my sister a set of leather-working tools. Above we see Vicki with her Christmas gift given to her by the next task master she married. It is a Commodities’ Investment Kit complete with a big book on how to conceal one earnings from the IRS. Shamus is examining his new roofing hammer that he will expertly use putting a new roof on the house, come spring.