M.Y.T.H. Inc In Action by Robert Asprin

“What’s going on up there?” Frumple demands, appearin’ at my side.

“Here,” I sez out of the side of my mouth, pushin’ some money into his hand. “Take this.”

“What’s this for?” he sez, scowlin’ at my offerin’.

“That should cover the bar bill for our table since this afternoon.”

“Your bar bill?” he frowns. “I don’t get it. We had a deal. I give you free drinks, and you don’t bust up my place or tell anyone … my secret.”

“Don’t worry,” I sez, showin’ him a few teeth. “Your secret is safe.”

“Then what … Hey! Wait a minute! You aren’t going to …”

Just then, the police reach us.

Now, earlier Nunzio and me was commentin’ how there wasn’t anyone in the bar who could give us a run for our money. This situational changes when these cops roll in. There are four of them, and while none of them looks particularly tough physically bein’ uniformly soft around the middle, there is a steadiness in their eyes that anyone in the business can spot as the mark of someone what don’t get particularly rattled when trouble starts.

“All right!” the biggest one of ’em says, steppin’ up to us. “What’s going on here?”

As you might guess, people of Nunzio’s and my profession are not overly fond of the authorities of the law, particularly the street variety, and we usually give them wide berth. So in actual confrontation such as this, it is not too difficult for us to act unpleasant.

“What kind of town is this?” Nunzio bellows, glarin’ around at the crowd. “A man in uniform tries to have a quiet drink … and the next thing you know, some bimbo is trying to set him up for a bum rap!!”