“WAKE UP, YANKEE.”
A voice in the blackness. A rich voice, a radio voice. A voice I had heard before.
“I’m not going to tell you again, New York. Wake up. I got something to tell you.”
I opened my eyes, slowly, realizing my entire body had gone numb. The speaker’s face swam into focus.
“I guess you’re not feeling so smart now—are you?”
It would be hard to say what I noticed first, the fact that half his face was gone and that his brain was partially exposed, or that he was training a pistol on me, or that I knew him—had known him since before starting my act. All I know is that I recognized him immediately and that he was perfectly correct: I didn’t feel very smart ... didn’t feel much of anything now that the Camry and I were sort of one big casserole and the big bouncer was glaring
