Ted got some food from Brooklyn Jerk and sat outside eating chicken in the crisp fall air. He’d asked for Virgil and Virgil came out. “Anotha nickel bag, brotha?” he asked Ted.
“No. Harder.”
“Sinse-blow-smack-dust?”
“Harder.”
“Respect, brotha, but ain’t nothin’ ’arder.”
“Yeah, there is.”
Ted motioned Virgil in close and began whispering in his ear. Virgil listened, his mouth dropped open, and he shook his head no. Ted moved in closer, determined, unstoppable, as Virgil began to nod his dreads, and then began to laugh.