In The Midnight Of His Heart
By AL BRUNO III
February 23, 1993
“Goddamnit! Where the Hell are we going?” the thinner of the two old men scowled. His name was Philip Adorskil and he was seventy-eight years old. His face was lantern-jawed and clean-shaven; he protected his nearly hairless head from the sun with a battered baseball cap.
John Sig exhaled heavily. He was the alpha to Phil's omega, short and stocky with shoulder length silver hair and a thick handlebar moustache. He walked with the aid of a plain oak cane “I told you already. “
“I said I'd take a walk with you not the goddamn Battan Death march!”
“It’s not that far.”
“We should have driven.”
“I said, it’s not that far.”
“You didn't say it was uphill!”
“I'm the one with a bum leg here.”
The gentle decay of Troy, New York’s residential district, with its refurbished Victorian-era houses, was at their backs. The cookie-cutter dormitories of the community college lay ahead. It was almost noon and the road was filled with the cars of students travelling to or from the campus. The music from a dozen different radios and tape decks mingled together into something John found to be a pleasant disharmony. He only had to look over at Phil’s expression to know that he was thinking something very different.
“I don't see why we just couldn't have lunch where we usually do.” Phil grunted.
“We can't eat at McDonald's every day.”
John shook his head with disbelief.
“I like McDonald's,” Phil said, “I don't need to go to some damned diner in East LaBumfuck!”
“If you want to go McDonald’s you can turn right around and go.” John pointed back down the hill. The early spring heat and Phil’s constant griping was starting to wear on his nerves, “I'll even give you a push to get you started.”
Phil stared back the way they had come, grinding his false upper bridge against his real bottom one, “If I don't like the food you're buying.”
“I was going to buy anyway you damn fool.”
“Really?” Phil raised his eyebrows.
“Well, lets get going then.”
They started walking again. In a few minutes they crested the hill and their goal was within sight. John doubled his pace. Phil hurried after him, “Bum leg my wrinkled ass.”