the Indian bouncer told him he could still make a decision, but it seemed one had been made, and he was too drunk to ponder that

“You must stop, my friend. You may leave now and one day return,” Johnny said. “Or you may stay and fight me.”

“You must stop, my friend. You may leave now and one day return,” Johnny said. “Or you may stay and fight me.” His voice was clarion in the still silence of the deadfallen bar. Everyone watched. Normally the men would chant for a fight, but tonight, they just watched Johnny Redcob’s stone-crested face. He placed one hand on the man’s back between his shoulders. “There is still time to make a decision.” He firmly pushed, and the man stumbled forward. He was confused — the Indian bouncer told him he could still make a decision, but it seemed one had been made, and he was too drunk to ponder that. So he went where Johnny pointed him, which was past Buck and out into the parking lot.

From Johnny Redcob the Bouncer

“I am not a prairie, I am a mountain,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.

“I am alone. I practice a life of solitude and reflection,” Johnny Redcob said.

“I am alone. I practice a life of solitude and reflection,” Johnny Redcob said, his words framed by the chirping words and swelling strings of the New Age music pouring out of the speakers. His hair seemed always to be blowing in a breeze, though Avery did not see or feel a fan in the trailer. He seemed to want to say more, and Avery waited for what felt like a long time. Johnny Redcob’s hands continued their movement on Avery’s smooth back, while Avery imagined all the things Johnny Redcob wasn’t saying. Then, at last, he dragged a few words out of the canyon of his throat. “I am not a prairie, I am a mountain,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.

From The Masseur