The Same Old Song

“How long do you suppose he’s been like this, Moss?”

“What, Gibby? Dead or a druggie?”

“Either, I guess.”

“Drugging, I have no idea. You know how it is: Some of them die the first time they try it. I hear some of them go on for years and then that’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘What’s it’?”

“You said, “‘That’s it.’ What does that mean?”

“They usually die, Gib. A lot of them end up like this. They take too much of something and they always want more. That’s what it does to them, Gib. They can’t help it. Sooner or later they end up something like this. Lying in the snow.”

“He don’t look like the last one we saw. This guy has a suit and everything.”

“There ain’t no rules about this kind of thing, Gib. Like they say, it takes all kinds.”

“Who’s they, Moss?”

“What? Who?”

“They. Who is that they, that says all those things?”

“It’s just an expression people use when they want to quote someone and they don’t exactly know exactly who. I suppose we should check and see if he has anything on him.”

“Like what, Moss?”

“Gibby, Gibby, Gibby. Like a little cash, a wallet, maybe.”

“We didn’t do that to the last one we found.”

“I didn’t want to touch that guy.”

“I don’t want to touch this one.”

“Why not? He can’t hurt you. The least we could do is brush the snow off of him. That’s really gross. While we’re at it, we could just kind of frisk him. Don’t you think? Look out for that needle there by his hand; you don’t want to touch that, Gib.”

“Okay. I’ll start down here at his feet. You can do that up there. I wish he hadn’t come here to our alley. I wish he didn’t die in front of our door. I think the neighborhood might be slipping a little, Moss. Don’t you think, Moss?”

“I don’t think it can slip too much, Gib. After all, our front door is on an alley. Look here, Gib, I got his wallet. Quite a bit’a dough here, my friend. Oh, God.”

“What, Moss?”

“Pictures, Gib. Look at the pictures. He had kids.”

“I don’t want to see, Moss.”

“Here, Gib, hold the wallet. I’ll roll down the guy’s sleeve so he looks decent. Then we’ll go.”

“Go where, Moss?”

“We’ll find Deputy McCaffery; he’ll know what to do with him.”

“What about the wallet, Moss?”

“We’ll give it to Mike to take along. I suppose the kids will be needing the money more than us, Gib.”

“How would we go about getting in touch with him?”

“Who you talking about, Gib? Get in touch with who?”

“Mike McCaffery, Moss. I mean, he usually gets in touch with us for one thing or another. I don’t remember ever having to look for him. He always seems to be right behind us, looking for us.”

“Good point, Gib.”