More from up front...

“Your boy hasn’t been out here in a while.”

“Who’s my boy?” I ask.

“Moishe.”

“Moishe’s my boy?”

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “How’s he doing, anyway?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Right now.”

“Decomposing, I assume.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” I say.

“He’s dead?”

“He’s been dead for six months. Where the fuck’ve you been?”

“Decomposing,” he says, swirling it around in the glass. “Damn.”

“That’s what happens when you die. You decompose.”

“You’re a sick fuck.”