Tuesday, January 11, 2011
I've just picked up my usual Corona at the bar and got a kiss from Patti - Monty's never offered one, which is just fine by me - and I'm on my way back to My Booth when Nick waves me over.
"Hey, Jack, how's it going?"
"What is it, and how bad is it going to hurt?"
"Give me some credit, Nick. You're not exactly a social butterfly, but you're waving me over. Ergo, you have something you want me to do, and you want to disguise it with small talk for awhile. Ergo, I'm probably not going to like it. Ergo, it's gonna hurt. How'm I doing so far?"
Raina grins. "Boy, does he have you pegged…!"
I sit down at the table. "Spill it, Nick. I might have a date later if this idea of yours leaves me with all my parts still intact. What crazy scheme have you cooked up in that bloodthirsty noggin?"
Nick fills me in on Miss She's-All-That and her little pet, and I was right. I don't like it, and it's probably going to hurt. What is it about being functionally immortal that makes people think it's okay to pound on you? Or worse still, ask you to volunteer to get pounded?
Still (I admit with a sigh), it's not like I have a better idea, or any idea at all, come to that. I sigh. Time to bring back the old Jack... one more time….