Adjourned Read Free Page A

you like, Mort?"
    Mort eyed the six-pack of Schlitz longingly but knew better. Booze had already fucked up his life enough. "Gimme one of those Diet Cokes."
    Macklin grabbed a beer for himself and handed Mort the diet drink. "I have a hard time separating what I know about the filmmakers from the film itself. Brock Dale, the guy who played macho Nick Crecko, is a whimpering homosexual, an egotistical little hemorrhoid in the ass of humanity."
    "You've got to forget that." Mort snapped open the Diet Coke and took a big gulp. "On screen, he's the invincible Bloodmaster. Has been for years." Mort ambled into the living room and dropped himself onto Macklin's couch.
    "Has-been is right." Macklin, sipping his beer, leaned against the kitchen doorway. He could hear raindrops tapping the roof. "But I have to admit, it was a nice way to kill a lazy, rainy afternoon."
    "Yeah, I tell you, I'm going to fucking sue the Beach Boys," Mort said, pausing to swallow a mouthful of Diet Coke. "Did they ever mention weeklong rainstorms in their songs, huh? No. The sun was always shining and everybody was getting laid. Do you see the sunshine? Do you see me getting laid?"
    Mort shifted his gaze to the Duraflame log burning in the fireplace beside the TV. "But that's going to change."
    "The weather or your sex life?" Macklin quipped.
    "Who gives a shit about the weather? I can't do anything about that. I can fix my sex life. I'm going to make a few changes."
    "Like what?"
    "I'm thinking of changing my name," Mort offered cautiously. "I've thought it out and I think I'd make a good Mortimer Neville . It's sexy, it's now, and it's a happening name. It's me."
    Macklin stared silently at Mort.
    "It's a great name, huh?" Mort continued, nervously filling the silence. "A real fuckable name. A guy with a name like that could get so much action he'd have to get his schlong insured against injury."
    Mort stood up and started pacing in front of the fire. "Of course if I'm going to be that active with the ladies, I'm going to need an operation."
    "Operation?" Macklin asked uneasily.
    Mort stuck his tongue out, shoved his index finger under it, and approached Macklin. "I'm gonna have this little connection here snipped off," he slobbered. "It'll make my tongue longer. I think it's too short and I'm not adequately satisfying women with it, you know? I also plan to drop a few hundred bucks into some new clothes."
    The sound of the front door slamming shut drew their attention to the entry hall. The two men turned and saw a frowning Cheshire Davis, still in her white nurse's uniform, carrying two bags of groceries into the house. "That's disgusting, Mort, nauseating."
    "How long have you been standing there?" Mort said, his face reddening.
    She walked past Mort into the kitchen, her eyes scolding him. "Long enough, Mort."
    Macklin started to laugh.
    "Ah, fuck you, Brett," Mort shot back, reaching for his pseudo-sheepskin-lined Levi's jacket lying in a heap on the floor. "It isn't funny. I was born handicapped, with a deformed tongue."
    Macklin, rocking with laughter, spilled his beer on the floor. Cheshire, unpacking the groceries, began to laugh as well.
    "It isn't funny!" Mort shouted. "I'm correcting a birth defect."
    Realizing that he was making no headway with either of them, Mort gave up, stomping to the front door in a huff and yanking it open.
    Macklin's laughter stopped abruptly. He saw Shaw standing in the doorway, his gray trench coat soaked with rain.
    Mort looked over his shoulder at Brett for some kind of cue.
    "See you later, Mort." Macklin caught his breath, his smile ebbing. Mort hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether to leave or not, then brushed past Shaw into the rain.
    "Can I come in?" Shaw asked sheepishly.
    Macklin looked over his shoulder at Cheshire, who was busy stuffing food into the refrigerator and apparently hadn't heard Shaw's voice. Macklin sighed, approaching Shaw quietly. He made no motion to invite him in.
    "What is it?"