"Hey, Reggie. Looks like a quiet night in here. The skyline looks like soup out there. I'll have a beer and a shot of whiskey, doesn't matter what kind. I'll serve myself if you're too tired."
"Yes sir, it has been a tough day. Tough week, month, year, life. I'm going to have a few -- no more than three -- and then go to bed.
"Reggie, you have to play music or put on some sports to attract customers. You're a good-looking fella, but looks alone aren't going to keep you prosperous."
"Well, it's the witching hour. Better knock off before a vampire bites me or I turn into a werewolf. How's my tab, Reg? Are we settled?"
"I'll take that as a 'Yes.'"
I miss you, dummy.
How's your belly?
Are you chasing the saints around? Trying to steal Gabriel's trumpet?
If they ever get tired of your shit, tell them that they can send you back to me.
I can wait.
Good night, Reggie.
Your Best Friend,
P.S. I'm sorry about the time when I cut your toenails and I didn't have anything to give you afterwards as a treat. That Snickers bar would have killed you.
But if I knew that car was going to run you over, I would have given it to you.
Sleep soundly, Paw Prince