Imagine him, Barry Smith, here, next to a really pretty girl, bouncing clever remarks.
And the girl is liking him.
He isn’t making a play, he isn’t crawling, he is tossing easy remarks as if he is equal to her.
He had on his shades, and was looking at her through them, so lifted them so that his blue eyes could touch her’s.
“I’m Barry…” he said in his soft voice.
“Madison…” she replied.
“You are the first Madison I have ever met…”
“You aren’t the first Barry…”
“No, but I’m the best Barry…”
“How do you judge a Barry?” She asked.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” he tossed.
Never had Barry been so cool, so easy. Never before had words come so quickly and cleverly.