“I’m not afraid of no damn dogs,” the bouncer said.
“Smart,” said Bernie.
“And I’m not afraid of a loser like you, neither,” the bouncer said.
Loser? Bernie? That made no sense to me. I was sitting – just inside the doorway to Club Utopia – because Bernie had said sit. There’s a way of sitting where you’re actually moving a bit at the same time. That was the kind of sitting I was doing at the moment, closing in on that bouncer. But before I could actually get started on whatever I would have gotten started on, the bouncer grabbed Bernie by the collar, banged open the door with his shoulder and hustled Bernie outside. And Bernie didn’t do a thing about it! I raced outside just before the door swung shut behind me, and what was this? The bouncer was lying in the parking lot, sort of moaning and writhing, and Bernie was standing over him, checking the top button on his shirt, which had come unfastened. This was one of Bernie’s nicest Hawaiian shirts, the one with the trumpets. Have I ever mentioned the Hawaiian pants? Maybe I’ll get into that tomorrow.
Paperback edition of Thereby Hangs A Tail coming Sept. 7.
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