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"Aw, shut the fuck up, Joe. You jackass. What are you willing to trade, for your intel?"

I do a little browsing through my pockets, coming up with a goodly-sized lump of lint, and some pennies. "Other than this jacket, this stuff, my keys.. I got nothin'." I hold up the lint. "I clean out the machine, at home. They have no garbage can in the laundry room. I's dunno s'what y'want, but hell. Take s'whatever you want."

"You're slurring now, you know that?"

Blinking, I sweep a hand across the room. "Zhish shit makes me feel drunk in waves.. y'dig?"

"Are you shitting me? None of the Daisies samples I've seen people --"

"Daisies? Daisies. Jim-bim-bo got me buttfucked on a drug sh-called Daiiisies. Sh'what kind of pussy name for a drug is that?"

"Fuck off, chronic. This shit is potent." She fiddles with the shotgun, tracing the handle with a nail.

"S'what the fuck does it do?" I flop face-forward in to my lap.

"You're on it; you tell me."

"Y'mean t'tell me y'never tried it b'fore?" I snap up, swaying.

"Hell no, haven't you ever seen Scarface? 'Don't sample from your own supply'? Besides, I'm not in to doing random stuff made in basements of failed high school students." She smiles, thinking.

"No. Never saw Scarface. How do you put up with Jimm--Jim, if you're not in to random drugs?" I feel a little better, so I relax in my seat.

"A woman has her ways.. and her reasons." She air-humps.

"I'm sure. If you say so."

"I would," she says. She stands up and heads for the kitchen, leaving the shotgun on her seat. "I see your slur has disappeared. Feeling more sober?"

I start feeling stoned. I'm not sure why. I watch, like a dope, while she makes tea. I can't tell what kind it is -- some kind of black stuff. It smells nice, anyway. When she sits back down, she places the gun at her feet, and props a now-slippered foot over it. The slipper is hand-knitted, I can tell. A shitty red-and-white pattern, like my grandma would make for herself. I shrug at her. "This shit is random, that's for sure. What the fuck's in this?"

"Beats me," she says. She sips her tea, never offering me a cup.

"Okay, cut the shit -- why me?" I could sure use some tea right now. My throat is dry like a motherfucker. Damn Sheila. I can smell how nice and moist that steamy tea is... "At least tell me why Jim-dim-bim decided to give me a free cut of this shit."

"Lemme put it this way to you, chum: he needed a sucker to test the crap on, before he sold it to the regulars. Only, he decides to test it on you, his fayyyy-vorite customer. As far as he knew, you'd never notice, let alone give a shit. You're wasted, every time I see you."

"Well, hell. I didn't think Jimmy disliked me that much. I do spend some time sober, too, you know."

"Could have fooled me! So, what's the problem? You got a little extra bang for your buck. What, are you going all weekend-warrior on my ass?"

"I did have a job, just before this. This'd seriously get in the way of going." I think of Jill, and my strength resolves. "How 'bout this, I pitch it to you straight: I hurt someone, and it was because of being on this flower-power trip-shit."

"Anyone interesting?" She finishes her tea, and forages for another cup. Her tea pot looks very Oriental, as do her dainty, plain white cups. I think to get up and get myself some, too, but I'm not sure if she's in the mood to share.

"You could say that." I look away, out the open screen door, and in to the parking lot beyond. I see an overfilled dumpster, and consider that maybe I should have left Jill in one. But, that's not very nice, and I really did like her a lot. Maybe the Chevy was a nice enough send off?

"Okay, so now you're being aloof."

"One good turn deserves another." With some balls, I get up & get my own tea. I get the last cup, using a giant coffee mug that reads, "MONDAYS? I JUST HATE MORNINGS." I stir a solitary small-spoonful of sugar in the liquid, relishing the steam as it licks my finger. The heat feels nice. Maybe too nice. I go for cream, smiling a little that she has the 18% stuff, instead of the half & half stuff. I like a woman who can hold her dairy.

"Touché," she says, when I sit back down.

I only sit for about two minutes, sipping my tea thoughtfully. Deciding to quit playing cat & mouse, I get up, leaving the ball of lint on her coffee table. "It's been swell, but I have to get back on the road, to my quest of finding Jimmy. Maybe he'll give me some answers, since no one else is being helpful here." I put the tea cup in the sink, turning the tap on to super-cold for one last sip. "I'll stalk the streets, until I run in to your man," I half-shout to her, so she can hear me.

She coughs, one of those fake ones meant to get your attention. "You know, I could tell you where he is.. save you a little time & effort."