Nobody's Fool

Sully’s arrest. They’d parked the pickup out back of The Horse in the hope that they might be able to drink a beer in peace before he was arrested, but that had been many beers ago. The sense of their living (drinking) on borrowed time had at first contributed to a festive atmosphere which had only with this most recent round (Wirf s, like most of the others) begun to wind down.
    â€œTry to get over to Hattie’s by six,” Sully advised. “You know how to fry an egg, don’t you?”
    â€œBetter than you.”
    â€œThere’s not very much to breakfast,” Sully assured him, though this was untrue. Short-order cooks were skilled jugglers and masters of timing. But Cass would keep an eye out and help him. Either that or she’d cook and let him work the register and the tables. Which reminded him of the promise he’d made to her and which he would now be unable to keep unless Wirf could spring him before New Year’s. “Tell her I’ll do that favor for her as soon as I get out,” he added.
    â€œOkay,” Peter repeated.
    â€œLet Miles Anderson go until you get the floor in at the camp.”
    â€œOooo-kay.”
    â€œYou know how to work a circular saw?”
    Peter grinned drunkenly. “Better than you.”
    Sully nodded. Smart-ass kid. “How long do you figure it’ll take you?”
    â€œBy myself, three days, maybe four.”
    â€œYou won’t be by yourself.”
    â€œOh, yeah,” Peter said, remembering his father’s injunction: get Rub to help.
    â€œHe’ll be fine by tomorrow,” Sully insisted. “Buy him breakfast. Loan him a dollar to bet his double.”
    â€œOkay,” Peter said.
    Wirf, who had been taking in this conversation, shook his head. “You make me zig, you know that?”
    Sully rotated on his stool. “I make you sick?”
    â€œNo,” Wirf said. “You make me zig. I zig in response to the craziness of existence. If it weren’t for you, I’d live a virtuous life.”
    â€œYou should be thankful I’m around, then,” Sully said, then turned back to his son. “You think you can figure out how to hitch that plow blade to the truck if it snows?”
    â€œIf you can do it, I can do it.”
    â€œTell Harold to rig it for you,” Sully decided on further reflection. “Tell him you’re my son.”
    â€œRight,” Wirf agreed. “You run into problems, drop your old man’s name. Watch all the doors fly open.”
    Sully rotated on his stool again. “I can’t believe it’s going to take you a week to get me out,” Sully said.
    â€œI’m a Jew. These aren’t my holidays,” he said. “Besides. How can I start getting you out when you won’t even go in?”
    â€œYou’re the one who keeps buying beer,” Sully pointed out. “How can I give myself up with you buying another round every time I get halfway through the beer I’m drinking?”
    â€œThat’s Zen Buddhist philosophy,” Wirf remarked. “If there were no beer there’d be no drunks. Or is it the other way around? If there were no drunks there’d be no beer. If I weren’t so drunk I could tell you.”
    Sully shook his head. “A zillion lawyers in the state of New York, and I end up with a drunk, one-legged, Buddhist Jew.”
    â€œHand me one of those eggs,” Wirf said, pointing to the big jar on the bar in front of Peter.
    â€œNo,” Sully said. “I don’t think I could stand that.”
    Peter, who had been nearly asleep, unscrewed the top, reached into the brine and withdrew an egg.
    â€œToss it,” Wirf said.
    Peter flipped him the egg, which missed Wirf’s hand, continued over his shoulder and onto the floor.
    Wirf looked at his empty hand. “I’m going to need another egg.”
    Peter reached around his father with this one, placing the egg in Wirf’s hand. “Ah,” Wirf said.
    â€œHow much do you want to bet that prick charges you for both eggs?” Sully said softly, indicating, at the other end of the bar, Tiny, who’dbeen watching but so far had made no move to get off his stool and adjust Wirf’s tab.
    â€œOh God, here we go,” Wirf said. “You’ve never seen this, have you?” he asked Peter.
    Sully took out all the money he had and put it onto the bar. “I got forty-two dollars says he