A Little Snack
“Okay for Chet to have a little snack?” said Uncle Rio. We were back in the Valley, inside Uncle Rio’s bar. Okay for me to have a little snack? There was only one answer to that.
“Well,” Bernie said, “he just had a chew strip and – Chet! Paws off the bar!”
Uncle Rio laughed. “I think he’s hungry. Happen to have half a steak sandwich I can’t finish.”
“Cholesterol,” Uncle Rio said. “The doc’s giving me a hard time.”
Cholesterol? A new one on me. It zipped through my mind and disappeared. The truth was there was really only one thing on my mind at the moment.
“All right,” Bernie said.
Uncle Rio reached behind the bar, tossed me half a steak sandwich. I caught it – not the first steak sandwich I’d snagged, amigo – and took it under the nearest table. Sometimes it’s nice to snack with a roof over your head.
“Ratko Savic been around?” Bernie said.
“Not lately,” said Uncle Rio. “He got himself a job.”
“What kind of job?”
“Caretaker at Cactus Heights.”
“One of those abandoned housing developments,” Uncle Rio said.
“Chet?” said Bernie. “Let’s go, big guy.”
I scarfed up the last morsels and was on my feet, set to go.
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