Julie is sitting in the hospital, all bandaged up. I figure maybe I can get in some questions before the hammer and saws get to her. Durn cops. Always cramping my style, corrupt bastages that can be pushed over by any sap with some rubes. Then again a pork and cheese burrito sounds real good right now. Do they make those? I look back at Julie and decide I had better get on the trolley. It breaks my shallow heart to see such a pretty face banged up like this. My guess is she’s not really in the mood to answer questions, so I just ease my arm around her and wait for the emotional geyser to boil. After a few minutes Old Faithful skyrockets. Right on schedule.

“I had just finished getting that guy’s order,” she says, tears starting to stream. “And this guy in a trenchcoat and tophat comes through the door. I can’t see his face, and his hands are in his pockets. I didn’t know what to do. I” The sobs break in and I patiently wait, hug her tighter. Shaking and bandaged hands wipe feebly at salty drops. “He came up to the counter. And he says. ‘Gimme hotdogs.’ I put my hand down on the counter and told ‘im, we don’t sell hotdogs, *swallow* here. All of a sudden, he pulls out his hands, but he doesn’t have hands! They’re hooks! And he slams it through mine! I started screaming and grabbing at my hand and there’s blood everywhere and I try to pull away but the hook’s stuck in my hand and then I can’t”

“Slow down, baby,” I say. I gently push back her dark hair and lightly touch her cheek. I think I should throw away the Police Gazettes. “All right baby What happened next” She turns those big teary eyes up at me and they are gorgeous blue oceans. Her lips start to quiver and I still them with my finger. Doobs, they’re soft. “C’mon baby, I need you to tell me.” She puts her head on my shoulder and I hold her and rock gently back and forth.

She starts again, calmer this time. “The guy I served before, he gets up to try to help and- that- that thing, that monster unhooks me and goes after him. I was too scared so I ran into the kitchen and I could hear- I can hear him scream. Joe got his shotgun and waited in front of the door. Things got so quiet. I couldn’t take it, Ruger, I just couldn’t stand it. Then we started to hear, scr- scratching, like a rake, or s- something. Then it was still again. There wasn’t anything. Joe looks down, and right then, it slams through. Some glass shattered right in my face, I fell, backed up. Joe shot that wolf- thing right in the face. Right in the face. It didn’t do anything, anything.” She looks right at me. “How can that be” It bled, but everything seemed to scar up. It was full of scars. Joe kept shooting. I couldn’t, I closed my eyes, tried to escape but the shots and cries were banging in my head. And then it stopped. I looked up and I saw Joe slumped over, slid down the counter. His head fell back and I saw *choke* his throat and-” She can’t take it. I feel like crying myself.

“I, I know baby, I’m so sorry. You, you gotta know, your brother was, the best guy I knew. And I don’t dish out compliments like J-Lo says wedding vows.” I look up and notice a couple of buttons heading toward her. I quickly break our embrace, promise her. I’ll figure it out. I don’t know if those interfering pigeons saw my withering glare, but if they did, they were weeds in a microwave. As the sweaty sidewalk welcomes me, I remark to myself how proud I am of my sneers. I reminisce on how many times my dry lips soured up so many joyous social occasions. I become Joe Camel. Rain yesterday, desert today. I hate this town.