Mac stared in disbelief. How the hell does she know I have a hangover? Damn! Somewhere back in his mind, he remembered that pregnant women have keen senses. She smelled it on me! Lesson learned. "For the record, I'm working on my.. drinking. This whole priestly.. err minister and being godly thing.. wasn't exactly my first calling."<br/><br/>Turning towards Dukey, "By the way, my hand in there.. I wasn't.. Look! Clara had her head on my shoulder, which is fine! Just the other day, the Applesauce.. err Crabapple sisters sat on either side of me and it took me three hours to get their identical blue wigs off my shoulders. It must be the collar." The very collar that now hung from his rearview mirror, he just realized. Unsure whether he was helping the situation, Mac smiled and spread his arms. "I'm simply a servant of God.. my children."<br/><br/>The Apple-... Crabapple sisters were both in their 90's. This part, Mac hoped, would go unnoticed. Lighting a cigarette, he stared down at the ground. "Look, I'm just a kid from the Bronx. I'm doing my best here. Do I think Clara is crazy? What woman isn't a little crazy? My mom once came at me with a machete 'cause she thought my sister and I were messing around with each other." Truth was, when he was a teen, he had lusted after his older sister. But she wouldn't have any part of it.<br/><br/>"When it comes to those lives inside Clara, every little move, kick, feeling.. they are talking to her. If she hears it as a voice, great! Who are we to dispute what's going on in her body?" Grinning, nodding like a fool, he was hoping somehow he was helping diffuse the situation. Suddenly he stared towards the trunk of his car in the distance. There was a flask of Cuervo Gold hidden beneath a tire. If he was stuck here for a while, why not? Surely Dukey would enjoy a few shots. Yet he was worried if he took a step in that direction Clara would next emerge with a shotgun.