"Ah, number nine with egg drop soup. Albert?"

Albert looked up at the waiter, closed one eye and stroked his chin. Stony had a horrible premonition and covered his eyes.

"Do you know kung fu?" Albert asked.

"Ah!...Bluce Lee!" The waiter smiled.

"Albert, don't." Stony hid behind the menu. Albert jumped up from the table and affected kung fu position number one. Hunched over, one hand palm up, fingers curled, pulled back to his chest, the other arm extended rigidly, hand in a fist. The waiter laughed and yelled something in Chinese. The other waiters stopped what they were doing, looked over and started laughing.

"Albert, please." Stony wouldn't uncover his eyes. His face was redder than the menu. One of the waiters near Albert, a fat guy with a six-foot smile, stepped forward and assumed Albert's stance. Then he let out what passed for a kung fu shout. Albert attacked, making up his own kung fu shouts and windmilling karate chops. The waiter tried to look serious as he fended off the featherweight blows, but finally he fell on his ass laughing. All the waiters were howling, staggering around the empty restaurant holding their guts.

"Stony! Stony!" Albert tugged on his brother's arm. "I beat him! I beat him!"

After Stony finished his shrimps in lobster sauce and Albert his hamburger, the fat waiter whom Albert defeated brought a bowl piled with ice cream, Jell-O, kumquats and pineapple to their table. A half-dozen toothpicks with parasols protruded from the pineapple. He set the dish in front of Albert. "Dis for Bluce Lee!" He tousled Albert's hair. "You one tough customer!"

***

"Hey, Mister Bones!" Stony removed his jacket and threw it on his bed. "For a guy who don't eat much you know what you had today?" He counted on his fingers. "You had a hot dog, a Coke, popcorn, a hamburger, ice cream, pineapple, another Coke..."

Albert smiled triumphantly, then all of a sudden his face turned green and he bolted for the john.

***

Saturday afternoon Chubby drove up to Banion's. The day was hot and sticky and he relished the thought of some cool drinks and lazy conversation in the air-conditioned bar.

"Hey-y, Ban-yon!" Chubby walked in, hands in pockets, and swung a leg over a barstool.

Banion poured out a Scotch.

"Chub, you missed somethin' here las' night." He wiped the counter in front of Chubby. "We had the fuckin' cops."

"You get held up?"

"Nah, you know Dave Stern?"

"Big Dave?"

"Right, the fireman."

"Yeah?"

"The cops were after him. They dragged him outta here last night."

"Big Dave?" Chubby sipped his drink. "What the hell for? He's one a the quietest guys I ever seen. He start a fire or somethin'?"

"Nah, nah. See, his kid, he got a twenny-year-old kid. He ran away from home last week. Just packed up and split. Yesterday, Dave gets this letter from him. The fuckin' kid joined a Jesus commune down in Arkansas, right?" Banion raised his eyebrows. "He writes this letter like, 'Dear Mom and Dad, I've found God blah, blah, blah.' Now get this—'I have changed my name. I am no longer Michael Stern. My name is Matthew'—O.K.? Dropped the family name, the religion. Dave's Jewish, no word where he is, when he's comin' home, if he's comin' home and the fuckin' kid has the balls to sign the letter: 'Smile, Jesus loves you. Matthew.'"