February 10, 1987

"What the fuck are you doing here man?"
"I'm hungryyyy and in desperate need of a cocktail."
"You know what I mean."
"Why is it every time I step out to do something ordinary, like eating, everybody eats you know, somebody like you has to ruin it."
"Its not like that, I juuusst...."
"You juuusst...?"

Larry looked down at his drink a little embarrassed.  He always said that if he ever had a brush with fame, he would be cool about it.  Here he was blushing like a twelve year old girl and squirming in his chair like kindergartner who has to pee.

"Where's George?"
"My God, have you no substance as a human being sir? Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?"

Larry looked away and at a television set across the room, feigning interest in whatever random college football game was on. He chuckled nervously, drained the rest of his Makers Mark and signaled the bartender for another.

"Same thing," the bartender asked.
He nodded, "and one of whatever this gentleman is drinking" he looked over and the man was gone.
"Did you see that guy," he asked the bartender.
"I've seen no one but you tonight partner. Maybe you don't need anymore to drink.  Can I get you a water."

Larry pulled out his wallet and flicked a credit car on to the bar top. He sighed and tried to coax whatever vestiges of whiskey were left in the melting ice water.

Fucking Liberace....Fuuuucking Liberace.