Hellfighters Page #3

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a clear picture now.

He had the bad luck

to marry a complete b*tch.

Shorty, it's getting

hard to breathe in here.

- Why don't you go forward?

- L...

I, uh...

I will.

Look, I'm sorry.

It's just that your dad,

he means...

I-I'm sorry.

Hiya, Joe.

How is he?

It wasn't near as bad as we were told.

He's gonna be all right.

- Knock wood.

- Tish!

- Uncle Jack!

- So good to see you.

They just brought him down.

The doctor'll be out in a minute.

- It seems you know each other.

- I've known him all my life.

- This is Joe Horn, dear. George Harris.

- Hi.

The last time I saw you,

you were in rompers.

Hello again.

I didn't know

you knew my father.

Your father

wanted it that way.

And your mother

went along with it.

I've just been keeping track

of both of you... for him.

I'm completely...

Not nearly as surprised,

if that's what you mean, as I am.

Here's the doctor.

Well, as usual, he's not what you'd

call the most cooperative patient.

Halfway out of the anesthetic

he says, "Where's my pants?

I want to get out

of this hospital."

Figures.

- May we see him?

- No, I had to put him out but good.

It looks like we're gonna have to keep

him unconscious to hold him a spell.

- Could I see him?

- It'll be at least the end of the week.

Bill, this is

his daughter.

Oh? Oh, well, then come along,

Miss Buckman, come along.

Uh...

what-what's all

the mystery about?

There's no mystery.

There just seems to be.

Boy, there's nothing like a nice

clean-cut, straightforward answer.

- Thank you, Jack.

- [Laughs]

This is my place,

and this is your father's.

We both have guest rooms.

I think you'd prefer

your father's.

Mr. Lomax!

How is he, Mr. Lomax?

- Ah, he's gonna be fine, Hernando.

- Gracias a Dios.

This is Mr. Buckman's daughter.

She'll be staying with us.

Put her bags in

the guest room, will you?

Anything I can

get you, senorita?

- Uh, no, thank you.

- You can turn in now, Hernando.

- Bueno. Buenas noches.

- Good night.

Well, as long as I've got

a lot of talking to do,

- I think I can do it better

with a drink.

- All right.

Comin' right up.

Tish?

Uh, Scotch rocks, now that you don't

look like you want to slip me a mickey.

Seems we started off

with sort of a ruckus.

Divided loyalties

over my mother and father.

Here you are.

You're on, Uncle Jack.

Honey, a long time ago,

I fought oil fires for a living too.

Your dad and I were, well,

just like he and Greg are now.

We were coming back

from a job in Indonesia,

and we stopped off

in San Francisco.

Chance had promised

some gal a fur coat,

and he went to Randolph's

to buy it.

I never did know

what happened to that fur coat.

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