Skinny hobbled into the Tin Man’s at about 11:50.  He had ditched the crutches for a cane.  He gave me a little smile and a tip of the head.

I was delighted to see another small break in his armor.  I stood and gave him a knuckle tap.  “How’s the ankle?” I asked.

“Chillin,” he said.

“Skin,” I said, “this is my partner, Ned.  Ned, Skin.”

They guardedly shook hands.   Ned wasn’t a knuckle guy and Skin wasn’t a shaker; awkward.

“You up for a nice beefy hotdog down at the Costco?” I asked Skin.

Skinny looked around and seemingly finding he wasn’t the center of attention, he shrugged his shoulders and gestured.  “After you, old man,” he said. Continue reading →