"Name isn't Ricky," the tall young man said. "Why?"
"Why what?" Reggie said blankly. He seemed to have fumbled the conversational ball. He wished the young man would speak with more clarity and add a few articles and pronouns to his sentences.
"Why are they following you?" the young man said peevishly. "Nothing better to do?"
"That's just it," Reggie said. "I don't know why I'm being followed. But everywhere I go this little man sticks to me like a postage stamp."
"Where is he now?"
Reggie pointed dramatically at the dark little man.
"At the bar. He took the stool I left. He's right between that fat old man and that young girl with the red hair."
The tweed-clad young man stared in the direction of Reggie's pointing finger, then he frowned and glanced down at Reggie.
"Any pink elephants, yet?"