“Oh, Ok, gotcha, one shot and beer
coming right up,” he’d say, and then   
get me another shot and beer, and even 
put them right next to the other two   
that were already there. The ones I    
still hadn't touched or paid for yet.  
     He'd then excuse himself to go    
help someone else at the other end of  
the bar and forget to charge me for    
those two also.                        
     I also had a tab, but he’d never  
let me pay it off. He wouldn't even    
tell me how much it was.               
     It was a long and on-going battle 
that I think is sometimes in his favor,
and sometimes in mine.                 
     I met both Joe and D one night,   
while I was still working for the      
Initiative group.                      
     After a few drinks, and after I   
* explained about the Initiative, I        
pulled out one of the spare signature  
sheets that I always kept on me, just  
in case.                               
     Joe, the bartender, not only      
signed it, but also gave me two hundred
dollars to help with the group's       
expenses.                              
     When I asked D to sign it, he just
slowly shook his head.                 
     “People who hurt animals and      
children should be boiled alive,” he   
said, and then added, “I’ll be glad to 
sign.”                                 
     I got excited about that idea,    
but then was repelled, because that    
would mean me. I should be also boiled 
alive.                                 



CHAPTER 10: WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 29th
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