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     "Shooter?"
     "Um… No. Comics?"
     "Uh, no thanks::::and isn't it a little late to be out selling comics?"
     "D.C.?"
     "No. Well, maybe a little::::I'm tired::::it's like 3 in the morning::::and there's a comics salesman on the prowl. Doesn't matter, of course, 'cuz I'm dreaming my way to Ensenada in the back seat::::and I hope to god it ain't with you."
     "Dick. Calm?"
     "No, I'm Nick Calm::::what'd'ya want?"
     "Gotta face with Dick."
     "Even if the house were on fire, couldn't let you in. You sure you don't want to talk with Nick Calm?"
     "No::::I need to talk to Dick."
     "Then fuck you::::I'm Nick::::and you're talking to me::::and you don't even wish to talk with me. Get out of here."
     "Please, man. I need help."
     "You friend or foe?"
     "I'm good."
     "Dick will talk to you in three hours. That's my couch::::touch it, and you're dead meat! You sit in that chair and wait. I'll give you a blanket. Just don't think I'm asleep when I snore. Keep awake! And be vigilant. I've got something of value for me which can have no value to you. A surfboard is a life-time. Three of 'em out there. You wouldn't steal that from nobody, would you?"
     "I'll stay awake. But maybe turn down the lights?"
     "Lights on. And there's another joining us, so don't freak."
     "Another?"
     "Shooter."
     "Oh?"
     "Cook'in! Sure you've heard of that in the medium?"
     "No."
     "A cooking show::::on the new network."
     "That venture hell-hole?"
     "Call it what you will. But I'm a star::::long before I ever broadcast. Just who I am. People like me, I catch my share. People don't, tune-out, that's my fate. So be it. I'ma child, man. We're all children, and we make mistakes. That's yours. This is mine. I get you another blanket. But shooter better hurry up::::blankets are running thin."
     Slipper sits immediately::::Nick enters with a blanket, then curls up on the plush couch with a rather large quilt. Blinks at him.

     Forty-five minutes later.

     "Who is it? Well, go check."
     "Hello?"
     "Shooter?"
     "I'm Sun."
     From the sofa.
     "Dude::::you my shooter?"
     "Nick Calm?::::Yes."
     "Hi."
     Bows.
     "Nice to meet you. Where you from?::::Sorry."
     "I'm Chinese."
     "Like, real-style::::or American?"
     "Real."
     "Cool. Good night. There's a bedroom all lighted up down that hall there. You don't surf, do you?"
     "No."
     "Good. 'Cuz I had to really stretch the Rax to fit the boards."
     "Oh. I've got my equipment out in the taxi-cab."
     "This man will help you."

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