. or was it eight?“Anna? How many trips to the pisser?”“Two.”Eight beers ... each.Sure it’s 3.2 but ... eight, and the stool is feeling comf....“Gimmie your keys,” said the bartender.I didn’t even think about it ... I passed ‘em over. He hung ‘em on a board behind the bar.He got on the phone to the desk. “Yeah ... four of them ... college girls, looks like.” He hung up.“You’re bunking here tonight,” he said.Unnerstan ... we were in snowsuits and long-handles and snopacs and Hilda ... bless her. “The lawn looks good” I said, looking around, “Well it’s a lot shorter now” he said, “Thanks again for the juice”. I stayed there for a moment and watched him; he still looked hot and thirsty so I invited him inside. “Nice house” he said, “You been here long?” “No”, I said, “Only a few months”. He sat down under the fan and wiped more sweat from his face, looking as though he may pass out. “Do you want a cold shower or something?” I asked, hoping it would stop him from passing out or. More

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