H-E had nothing against pitching in, doing her part, and voting.

At this time, H-E had the right to vote, the age of consent having been dropped from 21 to 18.

H-E was en vogue. This certainly played a part in her parental consent, parent’s consent, consensual parental permission, to her visit to Gotham.

Club 21 in Mannahattas had something to do with this. It was during the Vietnam War the right to vote went down, or was it up, to 18. It had been 21. The average age of an American soldier in Vietnam was 19.

The average age of the Kong was much, much lower. It could have been called statutory rape. Except it was the blowing off of limbs, the mutilation, scar of napalm, plastic surgery be damned.

H-E’s maid, the one with the superlative command of French, who came in and tended to H-E, in the morning, when H-E was discomposed, a bit messy, from whatever had happened to her, in her little starlit chalet of the perfectly lit love of her bloom of life, who delivered H-E a bit of coffee, or was it Espresso, or something on a teacup, a teaspoon, with H-E’s lipstick sticking to it, though in the mornin’ tide, H-E didn’t have her face on yet.