Behind the bar a tremendously fat man, a white apron pulled tight around the huge circumference of what Jimmy thought of as his tummy, said, "What'll it be? What's your pleasure?"
Jimmy turned to his new found friend and asked, "How can I get drunk the fastest, easiest way?"
"Leave it to me, old buddy, old sock," Grundy said.
"Maxwell, mix up three of your super-double extra strong corpse revivers, will you like a pal?"
"Surest thing you know," Max busied himself with bottles containing oddly colored liquors.
Rather than look at the terrible thing he was going to have to drink, Jimmy asked, "Where is the man you wanted me to meet?"
A howl of laughter from a nearby group drowned out his words, forcing him to repeat himself. Grundy looked at the group and said, "There he is. I'll bring him over."
The man he dragged to meet Comstock was equally young, no more than thirty-eight, with an unformed face, and the barest amount of white hair at the temples. He had some pictures in his hand and as he was introduced to Jimmy he held out the photos.
Grundy said, "Tony Bowdler 131, wancha to meet my oldest friend, Jimmy—what was your name, old sock?"