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f muscle stood up on his neck in what didn't seem to be the right places。 Doc Webster began to talk to himself
softly。
Then the alien went all blue and shivered like a steel cable under strain； and very suddenly relaxed all over with an audible gasp。 He twitched his shoulders experimentally a few times； like he was making sure they were still there； and then he turned to Callahan and said； clear as a bell； 〃My name is Michael Finn。〃
It hung in the air for a very long time； while we all stood petrified； suspended。
Then Callahan's face split in a wide grin； and he bellowed； 〃Why of course！ Why yes； yes of course； Mickey Finn。 I didn't recognize you for a moment； Mr。 Finn；〃 as he trotted behind the bar。 His big hands worked busily beneath the counter； and as he emerged with a tall glass of dark fluid the last of us got it。 We made way eagerly as Callahan set the glass down before the alien； and stood back with the utmost deference and respect。
He regarded us for a moment； and to see his eyes now was to feel warm and proud。 For all the despair and guilt and anguish and horror and most of all the hopelessness were gone from them now； and they were just eyes。 Just like yours and mine。
Then he raised his glass and waited； and we all drank with him。 Before the last glass was empty his head hit the table like an anvil； and we had to pick him up and carry him to the back room where Callahan keeps a cot； and you know； he was heavy。
And he snored in three stages。
2
THE TIME … TRAVELER
Of course we should have been expecting it。 I guess the people at Callahan's read newspapers just like other folks； and there'd been a discotheque over on Jericho Turnpike hit three days earlier。 But somehow none of us was prepared for it when it came。
Well； how were we to know？ It's not that Callahan's Place is so isolated from the world that you never expect it to be affected by the same things。 God knows that most of the troubles of the world； old and new； e through the door of Callahan's sooner or later … but they usually have a dollar bill in their fist； not a 。45 automatic。 Besides； he was such a shrimpy little guy。
And on top of everything； it was Punday night。
Punday Night is a weekly attraction at Callahan's … if that's the word。 Folks who e into the place for the first time on a Tuesday evening have been known to flee screaming into the night； leaving full pitchers of beer behind in their haste to be elsewhere。 There's Sunday； see； and then there's Monday； and then there's Punday。 And on that day； the boys begin assembling around seven … thirty； and after a time people stop piddling around with drafts and start lining up pitchers； and Fast Eddie gets up from his beat … up upright piano and starts pulling tables together。 Everyone begins ever … so … casually jockeying for position； so important on Punday night。 Here and there the newer men can be heard warming up with one another； and the first groans are heard。
〃Say； Fogerty。 I hear tell Stacy Keach was engaged to the same girl three times。 Every time the Big Day e due； she decided she couldn't stand him。〃
〃Do tell。〃
〃Yup。 Then the late Harry Truman himself advised her； said； ‘gal； if you can't stand the Keach； get out of the hitchin'。〃
And another three or four glasses hit the fireplace。
Of course the real regulars； the old … timers； simply sit and drink their beer and conserve their wit。 They add little to the shattered welter of glass that grows in the foreplace … though the toasts； when they make them； can get pretty flashy。
Along about eleven Doc Webster es waddling in from his rounds and the place hushes up。 The Doc suffers his topcoat and bag to be taken from him； collects a beer … mug full of Peter Dawson's from Callahan； and takes his place at the head of the assembled tables like a liner ing into port。 Then； folding his fingers over his great belly； he addresses the group。
〃What is the topic？〃
At this point the fate of the evening hangs in the balance。 Maybe you'll get a good topic； maybe you won't … and the only way to explain what I mean is by example：
〃Fast Eddie；〃 says Callahan； 〃how 'bout a little inspirational music？〃
〃That would bring the problem into scale；〃 says Doc Webster； and the battle is joined。
〃I had already noted that；〃 es the hasty riposte from Shorty Steinitz； and over on his right Long…Drink McGonnigle snorts。
〃You've cleffed me in twain；〃 he accuses； and Tommy Janssen advises him to take a rest； and by the time that Callahan can point out that 〃This ain't a music … hall； it's a bar；〃 they're off and running。 Once a topic is established； it goes in rotation clockwise from Doc Webster； and if you can't supply a stinker when your turn es up； you're out。 By one o'clock in the morning； it's usually a tight contest between the real pros； all of them acutely aware that anyone still in the lists by closing gets his night's tab erased。 It has bee a point of honor to drink a good deal on Punday night to show how confident you are。 When I first noticed this and asked Callahan whose idea Punday had been in the first place he told me he couldn't remember。 One smart fella； that Callahan。
This one night in particular had used up an awful lot of alcohol； and one hell of a lot of spiritual fortitude。 The topic was one of those naturals that can be milked for hours： 〃electricity。〃 It was about one … fifteen that the trouble started。
By this point in a harrowing evening； the petition was down to the Doc； Noah Gonzalez and me。 I was feeling decidedly punchy。
〃I have a feeling this is going to be a good round Fermi；〃 the Doc mused； and sent a few ounces of Scotch past an angelic smile。
〃You've galvanized us all once again； Doc；〃 said Noah immediately。
〃Socket to me；〃 I agreed enthusiastically。
The Doc made a face； no great feat considering what he had to work with； and glared at me。 〃Wire you debasing this contest with slang？〃 he intoned。
〃Oh； I don't know；〃 interceded Noah。 〃It seems like an acceptable current usage to me。〃
〃You see； Doc？〃 I said desperately； beginning to feel the strain now； 〃Noah and I seem tube be in agreement。〃
But Doc Webster wasn't looking at me。 He wasn't even looking in my direction。 He was staring fixedly over Noah's right shoulder。 〃I regret to inform you all；〃 he said with the utmost calm； 〃that the gent at the bar is not packing a lightning rod。〃
About thirty heads spun around at once； and sure enough； there was a guy in front of the bar with a 。45 automatic in his hand； and Callahan was staring equably into the medicine end。 He was holding out a salt…shaker in his huge horny fist。
〃What's that for？〃 the gunman demanded。
〃Might as well salt that thing； son。 You're about to eat it。
Now your run … of … the … mill stickup artist would react to a line like that by waving the rod around a little； maybe even picking off the odd bottle behind the bar。 This fellow just looked more depressed。
He didn't look like a stickup artist if it came to that； I'd have taken him for an insurance salesman down on his luck。 He was short； slight and balding； and