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102 Jack Fritscher

“Are you making fun of me?” Robert said.
“I wouldn’t dare make fun of you,” Floyd said. “My blood sugar’s
too low to keep this up. My prescription for you is to get laid twice
before bedtime, and don’t call me in the morning.”
“What does all that mean? Everything means some thing.”
“It means,” Floyd said, “you’ve come to the right place. It means,
Welcome to San Francisco. Welcome to Rainbow County.”
“That’s better,” Robert Place said. “I like that attitude much
better.”
“Have you ever thought,” Floyd said, raising his SORRY
CLOSED shade and opening the door, “about maybe swallowing
something you can buy on the street to lay yourself back some, about
letting your hair grow long again?”
“Why, Floyd,” Robert said, halfway down to the first landing,
“You surprise me. I would never have figured you to be one to turn
away business. I’m going out and I’m staying out...”
“You’re coming out.”
“...until he talks to me. So you’ll see me again. A real regular.
Plan on it. I intend to show your Rainbow County a thing or two.
I intend to stay a close-cropped soldier until all of them down there
in that intersec tion talk to me, and you’re going to keep me ready
for him and for them, barbered and groomed like I just stepped out
of a bandbox.”

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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