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But a drug addict? Uncovering the truth is her specialty As a forensic accountant, Mia Sauter could usually tell when people had something to hide.

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Posted June 30, by Rowena in Reviews Tagged: Until Ethan Hendrix […] Share this: There was no sense of privacy or personal space whatsoever, which didn't bug me much at first, until it became aggressive and someone grabbed the protection across my chest. I shoved him back with super-hero strength and started shoving at the other cops to show them there was in fact a boundary not to be crossed. I look over towards the bikes and notice a guy unzipping Pierre's tank bag to loot the camera gear, so I run over to him and since he won't back off, I grab his hand and shove him away.

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The cops then start yelling at me to move my bike. Cop says, "I am a cop, I will watch the other bike until you return". Its obvious the ploy is to threaten me into moving one of the bikes so everyone can pillage the hell out of the second one. Getting in your face and yelling, gathering more and more cops around, but since there are no hard rules, their demands are usually arbitrary. In hind-sight I should have unleashed fisticuffs on the cop that touched my chest.

After 45 minutes, my beau hunk resurfaces and i am half-relieved, half wanting to yell at him for leaving me, even though it was as much his decision as mine to separate. It is always easy to fall back into the mindset of the forever selfish infant and blame the most familiar thing in front of me, which happens to be poor, innocent Pierre. We escape the visa procedure and head to customs, where we are invited into a room full of soldiers.

Journal News, 8 February 1934

One waits for Pierre to look the other way, and each time Pierre does, he looks at me with bugged out eyes and with the goofiest smile while nodding his head up and down in a "yes yes" manner. He looks like a 40 year old 8th grader in army fatigues trying to get a prom date. Finally, we head out and into the agonistic, fire and brimstone torments of N'djamena, Chad and it's degree heat all day and all night.

Mosquitoes love this environment and so each night we have a blood bath of murder mayhem, killing no less than 20 mosquitoes a night for 3 weeks our way of saying "No" to Malaria.

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I created a book to hold all the corpses, and within 3 nights we had a full page underway. Notice the one on the bottom.

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  7. The biggest mosquito we've ever seen! The motel we are staying in is a cinderblock square. The ceiling sags, the sheets are brown, there is an abandoned pair of underwear in the room when we check in, and we periodically get our food stolen out of the refrigerator.

    hero | booksellersueg | Page 21

    There is an ex-pat community here which seems extremely interesting. We meet a few and it is true. Pierre and I otherwise hole up in our room and watch DVDs every night under the mosquito netting. I was red hot pissed and we stomped out. I don't think we had hair loss or bone damage, but close.

    Everyone knows when such talk turns defensive to get out, but heat and temper inspire the craziest things. It wasn't even over religion, more arrogance and closed mindedness for the sake of Later, Pierre ran over a frog, and we met an impish goat that became our pal for several days until he was murdered so some family could enjoy one evening of mouth-stuffing pleasure.

    His name was goaty, who later we realized was a sheep with horns.

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