Bobby Hobbes Fishes From the Company Pier
by Pares
I got a face like a football, but hey, you can tell by my eyes. I'm a sensitive guy.And I'm philosophical, always thinking. Maybe I don't have a doctorate from La Di Da University over there in Londontown, but I got native intelligence. Craft. Cunning.
Still, it wouldn't take much to look like an Ice Man next to my partner. Those big puppy eyes and his pretty, foxy face. That guy didn't spend any time on the inside where he wasn't on his knees for somebody, I'm telling you that.
You can read his mind just by looking at him. I never met anybody like that. Of course, you have to be able to *see* him to say, "I can see through you like a plastic baggie, my friend."
'Course, if you can't see him, he really *is* see-though.
I didn't think I'd like him so much, what with him spending nearly all of that first day together nearly getting me killed.
I tell you, it really sticks in my craw that because of him we got made by those maplesuckers. Bobby Hobbes does not get made! Bobby Hobbes is a consummate professional, a man who can hide in plain sight.
Not that I got anything on Fawksie. But hey, the guy's invisible, he has an unfair advantage.
It's funny; he looks like one those pretty boys who would be heavy with the Photo, you know what I'm saying? But he doesn't wear any cologne; I guess it would tip people off while he's doing his now-you-see-me, now-you-don't shtick. Sometimes when he's next to me, if he's real close, I can smell that goo he sticks in his hair a little, but maybe that's just because I know what to look for. So to speak.
The nose knows, my friend.
The nose knows.
END
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