Crunch Time

“Lisa, don’t make me be the bad guy here,” I said, staring into her deadened green eyes. “We’re talking about an afternoon out of the rest of your life. Is it really worth it to show me up for that? Do you really want to lose this job and try to find work in the current labor market? It’s brutal out there right now.”

I pointed out the window, even though the parking lot was largely empty now, but for some scattered trash and newspapers. No eaters or fraternity pranksters or cops or anyone. Newspapers. Who the hell reads newspapers anymore? They looked as if they’d been put there by the set dresser for THE OMEGA MAN and it he thought it was still 1973.

At least we weren’t in Los Angeles. You couldn’t have paid me to be there today. The riots, at least they said they were riots, were going full bore.