I always suspected that Brody was bad news. But you had to be in the right place at the right time to know for sure.

Last Thursday night found me at Grogan's Bar, as usual. I was sitting alone at my regular table in the corner, sipping a rusty nail. It was a slow night. McNally was sitting at the bar arguing with a guy I didn't know about something political. I forget what. Like I give a shit about politics anyway. Like I give a shit about anything. Oh but you don't want to hear about me. You want to hear about Brody.

Well as I was saying, it was a slow night. Besides Grogan and McNally and the guy I didn't know, there was a youngish looking couple sitting in one of the booths. He was talking animatedly about god knows what and she was laughing her fool head off. Couples like that really frost me. He was probably just some asshole on the make and she was a bimbo who deserved no better. How stupid. Like I give a shit whether he got her into bed or not. Like I give a shit about anything. Oh but this is supposed to be about Brody, not about me.

Well, it was about ten o'clock and I was on my fourth rusty nail when this guy comes into the bar. At first I thought it was Brody but then I saw it was only some guy who looked a little like Brody. Anyway, the guy sat down at the other end of the bar from the two political whackos and ordered a gin and tonic. Like, what kind of pansy would drink gin and tonic? You have to wonder about guys like that. So Grogan brings him the gin and tonic and the guy sips it slowly for a few minutes and then he starts to hum this little tune. Like, what kind of a pansy would sit at a bar and hum stuff? What a fruitcake!

I don't remember anything after that until I felt Grogan shaking my shoulders and telling me it was two o'clock in the morning and he had to close up. Guess I'd fallen asleep. The bar was empty except for Grogan and me. You missed Brody, Grogan told me. That Brody is really bad news, he went on. Like I give a shit about Brody, I thought to myself. Like I give a shit if I missed him. I paid my tab and left.

© 2003 by John Remmers.