‘So? Is that it?’
‘No, there’s more. I just didn’t get to it all yet.’
‘Why?’
‘I had a run-in with this bear in there. Y’know, four legs, lotsa hair, long nose, big teeth, big fuckin’ teeth.’
‘What kinda bear?’
‘I dunno, a Japanese bear, I guess. He’s wearing this little straw hat that says “Win with Nixon” on the brim.’
Eliza started to laugh. ‘I don’t believe a word of this.’
‘Look, what are we standin’ here talkin’ about it for? There’s a fuckin’ bear at the fuckin’ bar drinkin’ a fuckin’ beer. Go see for yourself.’
‘I’m just going to take a look inside,’ Eliza said.
She took a look. ‘My god, it is a bear! That’s a big damn bear, too! I mean, look at that son of a bitch!’ Eliza said.
‘I wouldn’t talk about him like that,’ said the Magician.
‘What the hell is a bear doing drinking beer in a bar?’
‘How the hell do I know? Ask the bartender, he used to work for Bridges. He’s the one we need to talk to.,
‘That’s Kraft American?’
‘That’s what I understand.’
The bartender, a barrel of a man with a crew cut, a nose that had been broken so many times it wasn’t sure which way to point, and arms as thick as a tire tube, was wearing a black T-shirt with ‘Hot Tricks at Budakan’ stencilled across the front in bright-yellow letters. The tattoo on his left arm, an anchor embroidered with roses, had ‘USS Billfish’ bannered across it. A toothpick lingered forgotten in the corner of his mouth.
‘Wouldn’t it be illegal serving a bear beer? You can’t even take a dog in the supermarket back in America,’ Eliza whispered.
‘You can reason with a dog,’ the Magician said, which made as little sense as the bear at the bar drinking beer.
‘Gooda see yuh,’ the bartender said. ‘Everybody calls me Kraft American. I own the place, What’ll it be?’
‘I need something really strong. A pina colada,’ the Magician said. ‘And beer for my friend.’
‘Okay I make that pina colada with Russian rum?’ Kraft American asked.
‘Russian rum?’ the Magician said, somewhat aghast.
‘It’s all I got till my delivery tomorra’
‘Sure,’ the Magician said with a shrug. ‘It fits in perfect with everything else.’
‘Uh ... what’s with the bear there?’ Eliza asked.
‘Yuh mean the one with the hat?’
‘I don’t see any other bear in here.’
‘What can I tell you,’ Kraft American said apologetically. ‘He comes with the store, okay? The guy who owns the place before me, he’s kind of like a patriotic nut. The bear is just one thing. You haven’t gone to the john yet. You sit on the seat, a recording of “God Bless America” plays. Anyways, the deal is, the guy wants out. He offers me the place. The only catcher is, see, the bear stays. And his rah, rah, rah, America hat stays too. And the flag- wavin’ toilet seat, everything.’
‘Does he have a name?’
‘Name’s Harry S. Truman.’
‘Does he often tear a man’s clothes off his back?’ the Magician asked, still annoyed.
‘It was the piano. I woulda warned ya, but I didn’t see yuh siddown to play. Only problem we got with Harry S. is that the goddamn bear goes apeshit when he hears flat musical notes. Hurts his ears or sumpin. That piano ain’t been tuned since they built the Canal. The only way, see, to calm Harry S. down when he gets outa sorts like that, all yuh gotta do is whistle the “Star-Spangled Banner.”
‘You ever know a guy name of Red Bridges?’ Eliza asked.
‘Know him? Shit, yuh. Can’t count the nights I wheeled his ass outa here. Red was in here alla time. He loved Harry S. I mean, they was asshole buddies. Red’d sit there, tell that goddamn bear his troubles, he’d never talk to anybody else. He used to bitch about the dish.’
‘Dish?’ Eliza asked.
‘Yeah, enormous thing, maybe as big around as, uh, half a football field, Like that.’
‘What do you do with it, invite a thousand of your closest friends to dinner?’ said the Magician, looking around for a laugh.
Kraft American laughed. ‘That’s a good one,’ he said. Harry S. belched, then rolled his lips back and smiled at everybody.
‘Actually, what it is, it’s an underwater environment thing.’
‘How come it was so big?’ Eliza asked.
