" I feel a twinge of freeloader's anxiety. "Maybe try and
get some money, help out around here. I don't know."
"You don't have to worry about that. Tony may run this place, but I'm the one
who found it, and I say you can stay. I just don't want to see you," she
swallows, "you know, waste your life."
"No sweatski." I'm not even thinking as I slip into *this* line. "I'll be just
fine. Something'll come up, I'll figure out what I want to do. Don't worry about
me."
Unexpectedly and out of the clear orange smoke, she hugs me and hisses in my
ear, fiercely, "I *do* worry about you, Maxes. I *do*." Then Bunny nails her in
the ear with a slushball and she dives into a flawless snap-roll, scooping snow
on the way for a counterstrike.
#
Tony the Tiger's been standing beside me for a while, but I just noticed it now.
He barks a trademarked Hah! at me. "How's the knee?"
"Big, ugly and swollen."
"Yum. How's the brain?"
"Ditto."
"Double-yum."
"Got any New Year's resolutions, Tony?"
"Trim my moustache. Put in a garden, here where the neighbours' place was. Start
benching in the morning, work on my upper-body. Foam the house. Open the rooms
in the basement, take in some more folks. Get a cam and start recording house
meetings. Start an e-zine for connecting up squats. Some more things. You?"
"Don't ask," I say, not wanting to humiliate myself again.
He misunderstands me. "Well, don't sweat it: if you make too many resolutions,
you're trying, and that's what counts.
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