Dawn Patrol

42

Tweety sits in the office of TNG, looking at his swollen knee. It looks bad; it looks like it's going to keep him out of the weight room for a while.

“We better get you to the hospital,” Dan says.

Tweety looks sad. “I don't have health insurance.”

“Not a problem,” Dan says. “I got you covered. Come on.”

Dan and the bouncer lift Tweety to his feet-well, foot -carry him outside-and squeeze him into the front seat of a Ford Explorer. The bouncer gets behind the wheel. Dan gently swings Tweety's legs in, then gets in the backseat.

Tweety says, “I'm gonna kill that fucking Daniels.”

“We'll do it for you,” Dan says. He tells the bouncer to head south on the 15, down to Sharp Hospital, the nearest urgent-care facility.

“Oh, man,” Tweety says, “anybody got any Vike or Oxy or something? I need something to kill the pain.”

Dan sticks a. 22 pistol in the back of Tweety's head and pulls the trigger twice.

“Oughta do it,” he says.

You roid-shooting, wrong woman-killing, stupid son of a bitch.