Kenny had always wanted to be in uniform; he had applied with the Marines, the Air Force, the State Patrol, the County Sheriff’s office, all with the same result.  “How,” they asked him,  “can you handle an M16 or toss a grenade when you are no bigger than a blade of grass? You’re just too small!”  Kenny was ready to forget the whole uniform thing and try for one of the covert services; maybe MI6.  . . . .  David, Sf.G.