The customer, a sandy-haired thirtysomething in a faded Izod stared at Abe in wonder. He made one false start at a reply, then tried again.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Abe leaned over the counter—at least as far as his considerable gut would allow—and spoke in a fatherly fashion.

“It’s an ethical position. Baiting a hook, or using those flashing little spinners to catch fish, it’s deceitful. Think about it. You’re dressing up a nasty little hook to look like food, like sustenance. A fish comes along, thinks it’s found lunch and wham! It’s hooked and pulled out of the water. Is that fair? You’re proud of such a thing?” He straightened and fixed the guy with his dark brown eyes. “I should be a party to such a so-called sport based on treachery and deceit? No. I cannot.”

“You’re serious!” the guy said, backing away. “You’re really serious!”

“I should be a comedian?” Abe said. “This place looks look like the Improv to you maybe? No. I sell sporting goods. Sporting. That means something to me. A net is sporting. You wait for the fish to come along and then scoop it up with a net. The fastest one wins. That’s a sport. A net, I’ll sell you. But hooks? Uh-Uh. You’ll get no hooks from me.”

The guy turned away and headed for the door. “Get out while you can,” he said as he hurried past Jack. “This fucker is nuts!”

“Really?” Jack said. “What makes you think so?”

As the door slammed, Jack stepped up to the counter. Abe had positioned himself, sitting like a toad on the high stool that was his perch for most of his workday. He sat with his hands on his spread thighs, a middle-aged Humpty-Dumpty.

Jack placed his offering on the counter.

“Entenmann’s brownies?” Abe said, hopping off the stool. “Jack, you shouldn’t have.”

“I figured your stomach would be rumbling about now.”

“No, but really you shouldn’t have. My diet, you know.”

“Yeah, but they’re fat free.”

Abe touched the yellow sticker that said just that. “So they are.” He grinned. “Well, in that case, maybe just a smidge.”

His short chubby fingers were surprisingly nimble as they zipped open the box. A knife appeared and carved out a huge section which went directly into Abe’s mouth.

“Mmmm,” he said, closing his eyes and swallowing. “Who could believe this is fat free? Too bad it’s not calorie free.” He pointed the knife at Jack. “You’re having?”

“Nah. Had a late lunch.”

“You should try. All this food you bring me and I never see you eat.”

“That is because I bring it for you. Enjoy.”

Abe promptly did just that with another piece.

“Where’s Parabellum?” Jack asked.

Abe spoke around a mouthful. “Sleeping.”

For some reason Jack could not fathom, Abe had bought a little blue parakeet and become paternally attached to it.

“He doesn’t like chocolate anyway,” he said, wiping his hands on his shirt. Brown smears joined similar yellow smudges that looked like mustard. “Hey. You want to see willpower? Watch.”