6.

"And here I was thinking you were normal, Sam."
They were sitting across from each other at the Greenhouse, a restaurant on the waterfront. The street in front of them was filled with tourists from several cruise liners.
"You've obviously got flawed thinking, my dear."
"I see." She nodded her head. "This could be true."
They had been drinking for several hours.
"This is why we get along," he said. "We both suffer from the same thing."
"Dementia?"
"Nope. Didn't mentch her. Did I mentch her?"
"Mentch who?"
"Oh you know."
"The mentch?"
"Yes. That bitch. Don't mentch her again."
"I promise."
"Good."
There was a strong wind. Sam picked up a small green leaf from the table. Many leaves like it were blowing in from the street.
"What is this stuff anyway?" he asked.
"Thyme, I think."
"Time? What a concept." He looked around. "Just look at all this time."
"There sure is lots of time," she said laughing.
"All the time in the world," he said.
"But it's all on your side," she said.
He smiled and sang, "Ty- I- I- I- ime...Is on my side."
"Yes, it is."
"Here." He threw a leaf at her. "Now it's on your side."
She pushed it across the table. "Now it's on your side."
He reached over and put a leaf in her hair. She shook her head and it fell to the ground. "Time out of mind," he said.
"Oh god." She attempted a straight face. "Enough already."
"Sure, you're right. This joke's played out." He drank his rum runner, watching the leaves in the air. "Besides, time's a-flying."
She burst out again. "It's flying all over the place."
A woman with short blonde hair and full red cheeks stopped at their table with a drink tray balanced on one hand. "You two having fun?"
Peg said, "Time of our lives, Jill." Sam threw his head back and laughed loudly. Jill, puzzled, put down their drinks.
Peg sighed, smiling. She said, "So Sam."
"So Peg."
"Still working on the Great American Novel?"
"Uhh...yeah. Sure. Not actually writing it, but working on it."
"Oh yeah. How's that?"
"You know. Thinking about it. I'm letting it evolve." He took a sip.
"It's funny you should ask. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."
"Because of Corrina?"
"That mentch."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Nope. Not at all. No how. Nuh uh. Well, maybe."
A blonde man with a crew cut and a sunburn sat besides Peg. "What's shaking babe." He squeezed her shoulder.
"Jammer!" She smiled brightly.
"You're a customer today," he said.
"Yeah, I'm getting served for a change. Jammer, meet Sam. Sam, meet Jammer. You're both very cool. You should like each other."
"Hey Sam," said Jammer. They shook hands.
Peg asked, "So how was practice this morning?" To Sam she said, "Jammer's the band's manager."
"Okay, okay. Of course Rhin was her usual mega-bitch self. She wrote another song the management would never allow, and insisted we practice it. We all liked it, it's just that we can't practice
something we can't play. We just don't have the time." Peg shot a look at Sam. He smiled at her, brimming with laughter.
"You two seem primed," said Jammer.
"Four sheets, for sure," said Sam. He looked at Peg. "What does that mean anyway?"
Peg thought a moment. "I don't know," she reflected.
"Sheets would be drying if they were in the wind."
"We are not drying," she agreed.
"And why four."
Jammer put up his hand. "Waitress! Drink please!"
Jill arrived in a few moments. "What are you having Jam?"
"Howabout a morphine cocktail."
"Sorry, fresh out of morphine."
"Okay. Just give me high octane."
"Long Island Ice Tea?"
"Yes."
Jill left. Peg asked, "Hey Jam, you know where I can get a bag?"
"Reefer?"
"Yeah."
"Nope. No dope."
"Come on, you guys are supposed to be musicians."
"You're the one who lives down here."
Sam spoke. "I brought some down. It's in the car."
"Well why didn't you say so?" said Peg. "Geez Louise." She finished her drink. "Come on, let's go for a ride."