Bart wanted to talk to Will
because of his brother, Alvin.
John tried to stop him. I was John.
“You said retard!” Bart shouted slushily.
“What?” said Will.
“In your set,” Bart continued, as I held him back,
“You said the word ‘retard,’ and you totally lost me.”
“Oh,” Will smiled, “Well, thanks for watching.
You can follow me on Instagram.”
Then he returned to his conversation.

“But -” Bart said, but I interrupted him.
“Let it go,” I guided him to the bar and got him a Sprite.
“Limon is the secret of Sprite.”
“Carbonation is the secret of Sprite,” he replied.
“Don’t tell.”
Bart’s brother has Down’s Syndrome, so he doesn’t like the word retard or retarded,
or much of anything denigrating to the differently-abled community.
He wasn’t in a position to express it concisely after eight shots and four pints, though.

And Will looked like he worked out.
“I wanna tell him something!” Bart said.
“Drink your Sprite,” was my best reply.

By the time the Sprite was gone, so was Will,
so the conversation was never completed.
“How inconvenient.” I exclaimed. “Maybe next time.”
Bart tried to agree, but his head was drooping.

We barely chatted about it on the way to the train.