Well, yes, he should hope so, Algernon thought. He shuddered to think what he might have looked like while he was out of commission--he refused to think of himself as still out of commission, bed-ridden or not.

"Yes, sit," he said, nodding to the best of his capability. "Tell me--" he began, then faltered. After a moment of struggle, Algernon made a frustrated sound and then said, holding out his hand, "Paper."

(His hand-writing was atrocious, but it was better than nothing.)

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