In the mirror the man with the horn-rimmed glasses looked at Mitchell. Let him look, the Mitchell in the mirror blinked. Let him gape, but just let him say anything, the eyes smiled. Let him. Mitchell raised his glass to his mouth. "You come here much?" the man asked.

"No," Mitchell said. "I used to hit the spots when I was in the army." For laughs. It's always for laughs. Mitchell thought. These people are like clowns imitating hemen. The lengths some of them go to seem manly. The almost military bearing. When underneath they're fakes, male impersonators. I always come to be entertained, Mitchell thought. To laugh out loud at the whole goddam bunch. But it's hard to laugh. It's too disgusting. Too horrible. Too unnatural. I come here, just like some people read horror stories, Mitchell decided.

"Say, haven't I seen you in some athletic contest?" the man asked.

"Could be," Mitchell said.

"You a professional?"

"Nope."

The man looked into the eyes of the Mitchell in the mirror. "This is a pretty lively spot isn't it?" he said.

"That's a matter of opinion." Mitchell said. "In my book no place is lively without women. No place, get it?" Mitchell said.

"Huh?"

"Skip it." Mitchell said, turning away. I wouldn't want to start something and get these fakes ganged up on me.

Through the mirror Mitchell saw that the bar was becoming crowded. A young man squeezed into the seat on his right. Mitchell looked into the eyes of the young man in the mirror. They were clear and bright. He's not one of them, Mitchell thought. Doesn't know this place very well. Or maybe he came to laugh,

too.

"What'll you have, Pat?" the bartender asked the young man.

"Gimme a beer." His voice was gruff.

Pat. A tough kid, Mitchell thought. He couldn't be a goddam intermediate. Reminds me of Mike. Mitchell sipped his beer. I wish Mike were here tonight. We'd do to this place what we used to do to these joints during the war.

Mitchell turned to the man with the horn-rimmed glasses on his left. "Say buddy. I want to tell you something." Mitchell said.

"Can't hear you," the man said.

"I want to tell you something." Mitchell said in a low voice. grasping the man's arm. "About a buddy of mine in the army."

"O. K. Go ahead," the man said pleasantly.

"This buddy of mine. Mike was his name, and I used to drop in at some of these hangouts during the war." Mitchell said. talking low so that no one else could hear. "Just for laughs and drinks. Well, one night this old guy came up and tried to proposition my buddy. A real stray duck, he was. 'Now listen,' he says, 'how's about coming up to my place for some free drinks and a good time?' he says to Mike. Well, I overheard him. I got up and laid him out flat right there in the middle of the joint."

The man looked away.

"Listen." Mitchell said, wondering why he had to tell this man the story. "This old fairy was spread out there on the floor and right beside him laid his glasses." Mitchell was nearly whispering. "And I smashed them. He was in a heap on the floor and I smashed his glasses," Mitchell said. "He tried to proposition Mike."

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