“I’m just sayin’…a guy could do a lot worse than Esau Wallenberg.”
This coming from Gunther over basted eggs at the Olympic on some random Wednesday morning in February. Whatever “Teachers In-Service Day” means, it doesn’t seem to mean that Gunther has to roll in to East and be “in service” to anything other than his headache and its hydration. Which suits me fine. I’m not his boss, and I’m always down for the breakfast special.
“Excuse you?” He’s been the anti-Esau spokesperson since he caught us together—in this very booth, now that you mention it—on day one.
He shrugs. “I saw you do worse than Esau Wallenberg last night.”
“At least he was a grown adult.”
“Whose broke ass couldn’t pay for his own drinks. Even Esau’s got a damn job. What is it with you lately? It’s like since you bou
