"Bobby was a good guy. He around?" Shorty glanced at the bartender.
They had a committee meeting.
"California," the bartender said.
"California," Shorty confirmed. "Stayed in and retired. He's out there cashing checks with eagles on 'em."
"Shit," Joe said. "Would'a liked to seen him."
"Two more, Floyd." The gambler said, putting a twenty on the bar.
The bartender laid two quarter rolls soundlessly next to the bill and asked, "You come around just to look up Bobby Shannon?"
"I, ah, well, got sick of working. Had some money saved. Thought I'd take a break, look around." Shorty shook his head. "I mean, what do you do after . . . " Joe meant, after you'd done pretty well, at least compared to these guys.
The bartender said:
"Beware of gnawing the ideogram of nothingness:
Your teeth will crack. Swallow it whole, and you've a treasure