Kill The Blackbird

Dave shook his head in disgust, "Now, you see what you went and done, George? That's no way to treat people. Someday, you're just not gonna have any friends. Maybe you don't have any now. Good thing you got Margie. She's the only friend you got, George." George mulled that. It was done. Margie wasn’t his friend anymore. He’d gone too far already with his insults. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve Dave either. Dave was right; George was isolating himself from everyone. He’d been doing that for a while now. More often, lately he sensed everything going by him. A year had just passed quickly, and now another one just popped into this bar and would soon flash through it. He was destined to sit here on his stool and watch it go by again. This was the first time a panic had struck him so hard. He had nothing. They were all sliding away—even the college kids whom he envied so. Who was he going to insult now? "What about you, Dave? Ain't you my friend? You gonna side with them college kids? I don't give a damn. See if I care. Just gimme a drink, Dave. Quit teachin' and preachin'. You ain't no good at it. Be a bartender. You pour. I drink. That's what we do good, Dave. Keep up the good work. Shut up and let me watch this here game. I wanna see the pussies get whipped." “You don’t seem yourself, George, like you’re puttin’ on an act or something. I know you act a lot with that blustery stuff, but now you’re talkin’ like a weenie. Whats’a matter? “Nothin’. Mind your own business." Dave turned his attention to Doc, "Would you like another drink, Doc?" "No, thanks, Dave. I guess I'd better get going, too. Happy New Year, everyone! I hope we'll all be prosperous this year." "Yeah. You, too, Doc. Hope you fix a lot of people up." "Thanks, Dave. So long, for now, everybody." Doc nearly bumped into Margie as he opened the door to leave Dave’s.” Oh, Hello, Margie. I'm coming out; you're going in. Well, we have to keep the seats warm, I guess.” Margie backed up, blocking Doc’s way onto the sidewalk as he closed the door. She stood in front of him, putting her hand on his arm.” Hi, Doc. Is George in there?" "Yes. As a matter-of-fact he just came in. Stirred the place up pretty quickly, I might add." "Oh. Where are you going, Doc? Oh, I'm sorry. That's none of my business." "Don't say that, Margie. It doesn't sound very friendly, somehow. Actually, I was going to find myself a nice place for dinner. I'm sure you and George must have rushed through your New Year’s Dinner to get back to the football games. You can get indigestion that way you know." Margie couldn’t help lying to delay Doc. “Well, we really didn't have dinner. George didn't particularly like what we were going to have, so, I thought I'd just skip it too.” It was a big step for Margie to lie like that, but the guilt didn’t stick. That surprised her. Doc stepped away from the door, nudging Margie. Margie cooperated with the nudge, moving just enough to keep her shoulder against his chest. Doc said, "Oh, Ah, that's too bad. I'm sorry to hear you passed up your dinner—the first of the New Year. I thought I'd just go down here to Corbone's and have some of their Veal Scallopini. I've had it once or twice. It's really very good. Have you ever tried it?" "No. I never have. We really don't go out very much. George likes to stay home, you know? He thinks restaurants are too expensive. He says my cookin’ is better." "Uhm. You really ought to try it sometime, Margie. It's very good.... Do you like Veal Scallopini?" Margie made a few steps along with Doc. She was not going to back off on what she saw as a growing opportunity. "Oh, yes, I think so. I guess. I'm not really sure. Is that the breaded veal with the sauce and melted cheese on it?" "No, not quite. I think that's veal parmesan. That's also an excellent dish at Carbone's." Margie stopped momentarily, but faced Doc, fixating on his eyes. "Yes. Well, I guess I'll go in and watch the football game. I hope you enjoy your dinner, Doc." "Yes, thank you. Aren't you hungry, Marge? You didn't have dinner you said." "Ah, well, maybe Dave's kitchen will be open, later." "I don't think so, Marge. He said he was going to give everybody the day off. He's all by himself today." "Oh, gee. Well, maybe we'll send out for a pizza or something later." "Maybe you...and George would like to join me for dinner at Carbone's." Margie looked down, stepping alongside Doc as if to go with him. "Oh, I don't think so, Doc. George wouldn't do that. He doesn't like to go out. He wouldn't. Besides, he wants to see the game. It'll probably go on for another couple hours or something like that. You know how that is." "Yes. Well, I wish you could have joined me. It's just down the street, here. Maybe you'd like to ask him. I'll wait." "No, Doc. He won't go. I know he won't go." "I think it would be nice to have some company, Margie. It's just down the street. I realize that you might feel uncomfortable, but it's just company and dinner. Just you and me talking." "I'd like to...." "We'll be back before the end of the game." "Well, OK."