He whistled happily, "I've done it for you, Jak. Everything'll be fine now."
"That's good," I began sleepily, but then I sat upright in bed, with quick suspicion. "You've done what?" I grabbed the newspaper from his hand. It read, Champ's Manager reveals he has Venusian Elephantiasis.
I stared at it and then at him. "What in kert is Venusian Elephantiasis, and where'd you get the idea I have it?"
He shrilled proudly, "I had to do a lot of research. It's one of the few diseases left in the system that's incurable. So rare, for one thing."
I was still half asleep. I shook my head.
He said, "Don't you get it? You won't have to fight now. You can retire from the arena, as undefeated champ, and make a top notch living for the rest of your life endorsing—"
I jumped out of the bed and dashed to the telo, but even before I could reach it it glowed on and Suzi's face, cold as a winter day on Pluto, was there.
Her eyes seemed to focus about three feet beyond my head and she said, "Jak Dempsi, you're a phony. A cheap, petty, cowardly phony. Venusian Elephantiasis, indeed!" Her voice dripped scorn. "I never want to hear from you again."
"Suzi, wait a minute. I can explain," I yelled. "My manager—" But the screen had died.
I spun on him, but he wasn't at the side of the bed where I'd seen him last. Instead he was over at the Viziscreen, the glee gone from his chicken-like face, and anxiety beginning to become evident.