“Sugar maple!" Mary-Todd Holt knelt over her husband. "Are you all right?"
Eisenhower sat up, and egg-size lump blooming on his crown. "Of course I'm all right!" he managed, his words slurred. "You think a little insect can stop me?"
Reagan was unconvinced. "I don't know, Dad. She brained you with a baseball bat!"
"Hockey stick," Dan corrected.
"Those could be your last words, brat–”