The Extraordinary Adventures of Alfred Kropp (Alfred Kropp 1)
“The master is the one who claims it,” Bennacio said.
“And who would that be?” I asked.
“The master of the Sword,” he said.
“Do you know who that is?” I asked.
“I do not need to know.”
“How come?”
“The Sword knows,” he said. “The Sword chose Arthur.”
“How does a sword choose somebody?”
He didn’t say anything.
“How do you know the Sword didn’t choose Mogart?” I asked.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, I guess to let me know he was still angry at me or he didn’t feel like talking or his side still hurt.
I pulled off the interstate around noon to get some gas and something to eat. All I’d had that day was half a bagel, and Bennacio hadn’t even touched his breakfast.
I paid for my gas and bought two corn dogs, a bag of chips, and a couple of fountain drinks. Back in the car, I handed one of the corn dogs to Bennacio.
“What is this?” he asked.
“A corn dog.”
“A corn dog?”
“It’s a wiener wrapped in corn bread.”
“Why is it skewered?”
“It’s a kind of handle.”
He looked at the corn dog suspiciously. I pulled to the far side of the building and parked near the air hose.
“What are you doing, Kropp?”
“I need to check your side. Pull up your shirt, Bennacio.”
“My side is fine. We need to keep driving.”
I just looked at him. He sighed, laid the corn dog still in its yellow wrapping on his lap, and lifted up his shirt. I pulled the dressing aside and saw the wound had already closed. I’m no doctor, but it looked almost healed.
“Let’s go, Kropp,” Bennacio said crisply, pulling down his shirt.
I got back on the interstate. Bennacio didn’t eat his corn dog; it lay on his lap for another twenty miles as he stared out his window.
“Your corn dog’s getting cold,” I told him. He ignored me. I reached over, took it off his lap, pulled off the wrapping, and ate it. It occurred to me I hadn’t seen Bennacio eat since the restaurant the night before.
“Maybe I should have asked before I bought you the corn dog,” I said. “But I figured, who doesn’t like corn dogs?”
“I am not hungry.”
“You gotta eat, Bennacio. Tell me what you want and I’ll stop again.”