“But what about you, boy? You’re not immortal, are you?”
“Fairly so,” the concierge told him. “But I will put it in writing, and after me, comes the Manager and the Assistant Manager.”
“Both good men,” the Colonel agreed.
“Wouldn’t you like to sit down, my Colonel?”
“No. Who sits down except men and women in change of life hotels? Do you sit down?”
“No.”
“I can rest on my feet, or against a God damned tree. My countrymen sit down, or lie down, or fall down. Give them a few energy crackers to stall their whimpers.”
He was talking too much to regain confidence quickly.
“Do they really have energy crackers?”
“Sure. It has something in it that keeps you from getting erections. It’s like the atomic bomb, only played backwards.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“We have the most terrific military secrets that one General’s wife ever told another. Energy crackers is the least of it. Next time we will give all Venice botulism from 56,000 feet. There’s nothing to it,” the Colonel explained. “They give you anthrax, and you give them botulism.”
“But it will be horrible.”
“It will be worse than that,” the Colonel assured him. “This isn’t classified. It’s all been published. And while it goes on you can hear Margaret, if you tune in right, singing the Star Spangled Banner on the radio. I think that could
