Hugh Hamilton
The voice belonged to a scruffy looking guy who appeared to have been raised on a strict diet of gin and Cornflakes™.
"Did you?" said Ben, sceptically judging him by his appearance.
"Yes I did," replied the old man aggressively.
"Well, kind sir," patronised Ben, "don't keep us here in the dark."
"Don't worry," cackled the old man; "your generously stuffed wallets will shroud you in eternal sunshine."
Before Ben could protest the clumsy phrasing, Hugh began reluctantly fishing out bills and handing them over to the waiting palm.
"$25," said the old man thoughtfully. "You know my price"
"It was nothing, really," said Hugh modestly.
"Don't sell yourself short," said the old man under an unfounded mask of wiseness. "Accept praise when it's offered."
"Well...," said Hugh sheepishly.
"Not another word!" yelled the old man. "I'm gonna buy you two a drink."
Hugh and Ben followed him into a small but well peopled bar.
"A couple of Railroad Gins please," said the old man to the bar maid who responded idiosyncratically by fulfilling the request.
"That will be $25 dollars please."
"What luck!" shouted the old man reaching into his pocket.
The bar maid snatched the bills and placed them in her recently acquired cash register.
2 comments:
For whatever reason, this was always a favourite chapter of mine. Perhaps it's because the old man was partly modelled on a Milligan-voiced Goon Show character for the "What luck!" line, and thus that's what I think of when I read it now. Still pretty clunky, though.
'Tis one of the better bribes, that's for sure.
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