King almost always regretted picking up Eddie. Edde talked.

“The weirdest thing happened to me today.”

King said nothing. He didn't care what happened to Eddie enough to hear about it.

“I said goodbye to my neighbors. They been living next door to me for two years. They moved out. So I caught them as they were leaving for Toronto today and we said our goodbyes and I drove off.”

King wondered about rotary engines and why more people didn't use them.

“Anyway, as I was driving along, I realized I forgot something so I drove back and then I had to see them again. It was awkward because I had already hugged them and thanked them for being such great neighbors and then I had to be all like, ‘forgot my wallet, have a safe trip.' I felt like a douche.”

Another pause.

“Well?”

“Well what, Eddie?”

“Well shit, King. Have you been listening to a damn word I said?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Well don't you think that would be awkward?”

“No.”

“You know what, Big Mac was right about you.”

King couldn't care less what Ben McDonald, a man who walked the earth with perpetually sweat-stained pits, thought about him.

“You're a sociopath,” said Eddie.

“You're no shrink, Eddie.”

“No, seriously. You remember when we all had to hall up ass to the yard while they electrocuted and sliced up all them cows? There was like, six of us. Remember?”

King remembered the job. They'd completed it with success, then everybody got sick and couldn't eat. Not King. He remembered almost enjoying the sight of those men being ground up like sausage. But that didn't make hum a sociopath–just a man who liked his work. Nothing wrong with that. And if there was, King didn't give a shit anyway.

“You never got sick. You didn't even get bothered by it.”

“Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.”

“You see Jumper yet?”

“I'm turning up the stereo now.”

They listened to music the rest of the way.

“Oh fuck,” said Eddie as they turned up State Street.

“What? You forget something?”

“That's the guy. That's the fucking guy. I can't believe he's out walking the streets. Pull over.”

“The fuck I will. I'm not grabbing that dude off a fucking city sidewalk in broad daylight in fucking Yuppieville. Whoever gave you a brain was running a con. Where is he?”

“Back there about four blocks.”

“Walking this way?”

“Which way?”

“Our way. Toward us.”

“Oh,” said Eddie. “No, the other way. Towards the plaza. Maybe you should turn the car around.”

King hated working with Eddie.

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