NOVELS BY MACK McCOLL

 He was underage but the tavern manager accepted his false I.D.. Barry belonged in the bar where he had fun. His main thing was discussing the study he had made on the lifespan of living things with the other drinkers. "How long does a spruce tree live, Barry?" "Until I come along," he paused, "to cut down its decadent ass," he replied, wearing what he knew to be a sly looking wry smile. Raucous laughter would ensue.