I would've made sure to pack heat, but as it was I couldn't even pack my bags. Meant to see an old friend of mine, back alley doc who'd lost his license about the same time he'd lost his mind. Still good for a couple of stitches though.

That was the plan until I realised I'd barely make it past my liquor cabinet, so instead I took the trip there and back and sat against one of the few shelves that were still standing. Figured old Jack D was as good a stand-in for the blood I'd lost as any and with one eye down it couldn't hurt to see double with the other instead.

Then I finally recognised the voice and if that wasn't just the icing on the goddamn disaster cake. Square man getting robbed real bad. I could've sold that to some, but there were always those who bothered to have a closer look. And that look made me look about as square as a ripe peach in summer.

"Told you I'm closed."