“Could I have some water?”
He gave an artificial “Whoops,” said,
“I’m dreadfully sorry, Jack, where are my manners? Of course you can. We’re not animals. Sparkling or still?”
Despite the robotic device, something in his terminology triggered a memory. I’d heard this prick before. I’d deal with that later, if there was a later. I said,
“Long as it’s wet.”
He laughed, said,
“Ah, that spirit Jack, why we love you.”
My mouth was wrenched open, a bottle put to my lips and glorious cold water poured. I coughed, spluttered but got it down.
No Jameson tasted as sweet. The voice said,
“Now to business, I think we share a dislike of chitchat.”
A hectoring tone now behind the device, said,
“As a lover of America, I think you’ll appreciate our somewhat altered version of the following.”
He took my silence as assent. Intoned,
“… Give us your wretched, your poor, your infirm, your dregs, your outcasts.”
Stopped, said,
“You get my drift?”
I managed,
“How fucking complicated is it?”
He gave a bitter laugh, said,
“That’s my boy, bitter and vicious. We’ve added our own little kicker. Would you like to hear it?”
I croaked,
“I have a choice?”
Received a sharp vicious jab to my kidneys, with a bat… a baseball bat? It hurt like bejaysus. Heard, soon as I got my wind back.
“We’re being nice here Jack but we can do hardball too. Are we clear?”
I managed,
“Crystal.”
“So, would you like to hear our addendum?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Okeydokey, after the rigmarole of give us your scum and such, we’ve added
… and we’ll annihilate them.”
Sweat coursed down my body. He continued,
“Misfits, retards, gays, the parasites, oh, yes, I nearly forgot, especially for you Jack, alkies.
We shall cleanse the planet of them. Recognize anyone familiar in there, Jacky boy?”
Total silence reigned for a few blessed minutes, then his voice in an almost jolly tone said,
“But Jack, hermano, buddy, you’re sweating like a bloody pig.”
Maybe the worst thing of all, in this horror show, he touched my cheek with two fingers, almost caressingly, said,
“Chill big guy, we’re not ready to take you off the board…”
A single beat, then,
“Yet.”
Chills and sweats were running down my back, my hair was literally saturated from panic. It was about to get worse, a whole lot.
He said,
“We have a rather fascinating dilemma for you. You get a choice, not unlike The Dice Man or Sophie’s Choice. I mention books to help you de-stress.”
Guess what? It wasn’t helping.
He asked,
“I need to know first, though, which hand do you drink with?”
Without thinking, I said,
“The one that shakes the least.”
Received a second stunning blow to my gut that was so fierce I threw up-threw up the water and some other stuff I don’t think I want to know. I stuttered,
“My… right…right hand.”