Happiest of Happy Hours

“What you got there? Your heart medicine?”

Dzinski crushed the uppers between his teeth, and washed them down with the rest of his bourbon.

“Something like that,” he said, looking over at the kid who asked.

There were two of them.  Both cackling. Both dressed in the same too-small suits. Both of their faces just aching to get beat in. Dzinski swivelled away from them, deciding neither were worth the effort and ordered another drink.

“You should watch that stuff, pops,” one of them said. “It’ll kill you.”

Dzinski lifted his glass, smirking at their reflections in the bar mirror.


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