He coughed. “Well the secretaries keep telling me that you're not eating and other 'signs' or something. And from the looks of it you haven't taken ... sick day, or any vacation, in a long, long time.” “Really, Carl, I'm fine,” I said, desperate. “Just a little tired is all.” He nodded.“Which is why you're going to take a few days. Sick, vacation, you're pick. But three days, minimum. And if you're still looking all... tired, I'll make you take more. Now skidaddle.”I drove around for an hour. His name was Josia Phillips, and he didn't look like he would take easy to being hanged.Phillips sat down at a poker table and began to play. He was continually complaining about the quality of the cards he was getting and I began to wonder if he was drunk. I kept a close eye on him while I nursed a beer. He was really browbeating the meek little guy sitting next to him and was well on his way to being the world's worst SOB. Before I had a chance to get bored with his attitude, Phillips drew. More

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