Here is Bellem, in the Dan Turner story Beyond Justice (a
recent read):
He met me head on, and we locked horns like a couple of
moose. I had a death grip on his coat, and I felt it tearing.
And then Bogard brought up his knee and planted it on me in a
place I don't like to talk about.
I doubled over, sicker than seven hells. Tony Bogard picked
up a bottle from the table in the middle of the room and
christened me with it, as though I'd been a ship being
launched. I went down and out.
WHEN I woke up, Dave Donaldson was shaking hell out of me,
and I had a lump on my stall the size of the Graf Zeppelin. I
opened my eyes and staggered to my pins I was woozy.
Best,
MrT
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