"Bullshit!" the sharp tongue of Tom Dunn rang out. Tom sat on the end, opposite Ed Cramer, for a very good reason; it was closer to the bar and he was developing a problem with alcohol. A tall, very thin character, with thick glasses and a long pointed nose, it was natural that they nicknamed him Ichabod Crane. And Tom didn't disillusion himself about his looks. "We don't get any ass because we don't go about it in an intelligent manner."

In the corner, next to Tom, a short, fat, boyish figure became alert and nodded approval to Tom's statement. Not that Charles Krauss knew what Tom was leading to, he just wanted to hear more about it.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Tom continued, a bit smug in his attitude to let them know he was of superior intelligence. "We've got nothing going for us… no money, no car, no looks…"

"Speak for yourself," Jay cut in.

"The orangutan over there calls the rest of the world ugly," Tom snapped back at him. "What's the use? I've been trying to get you guys to start a social club for years now and you just sit on your fat asses and moan about not getting laid. You expect a broad to come in this piss-stenched bar, walk over to the table and ask you for a hump." He got up from the booth to get another beer and said over his shoulder, "Even then you'd probably want her to do it in the fuckin' booth!"

Jay and Ed sat motionless, but Charles was fidgeting, anxious for Tom to return. He started talking before Tom reached the booth: "We can use my uncle's store!"

"Huh?" Tom responded.

"My uncle has an empty store over a bowling alley that he can't rent. Too noisy. He said I could use it any time I wanted to. And it even has a three-room apartment behind it."

"Where is this place?"

"In Maspeth… on Old Fresh Pond Road."

"Yeh," Jay cut in, "we can all rent bicycles from Avis to get there."

"The bus on Palmetto Street goes right past the place," Charles answered. But Jay began to laugh at his own joke and paid no attention.