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Michael Malone - Weebly

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down his drink, which Hayes (entirely unaware of<br />

Smalter's response to his tone) immediately refilled.<br />

Then he patted Smalter on the back and spoke<br />

warmly. "I like you, Sammy. Always have."<br />

Smalter tugged at his bow tie, shook off the affront<br />

as alcoholic and not personal, picked up his glass, and<br />

took a drink. "What is this?"<br />

"Scotch."<br />

"Isn't it a tad on the bitter side?"<br />

"Tad on the cheap side. Keep drinking, won't<br />

matter in a while.<br />

Sammy," Hayes said solemnly, "I had a dream last<br />

night. You'll appreciate it. I dreamed Richard Nixon<br />

was King Lear! He was running crazed and half-naked<br />

in the rags of that black three-piece suit of his.<br />

Roaring up and down a deserted beach at San<br />

Clemente howling things like 'Take physic, pomp!' But<br />

Nixon's not crazy like Lear. He's only crazy like the<br />

Pentagon and Exxon."<br />

"Sane."<br />

"Right. Have some more."<br />

"Ah, well, just a bit. How much is enough?"

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