I complied."Old war wound?" he asked, looking me in the eyes."Football," I replied, and told him the story.A smile spread across his face. "Drop your ...rousers," he said, gleefully."What?" I demanded."You heard me!" he said, sharply, a laugh in his voice. "Drop 'em!"I looked at him for a moment, then unbuckled my belt and dropped my pants.Arthur grinned, leaned forward, and grabbed my calves, squeezing lightly; then repeated with my thighs."Arthur," I said, "are you gay?" No," he laughed, "we. That will give you time to prioritize you demons and we can begin slaying them one by one."I think it's the English who use the expression "gobsmacked." I'm not sure exactly what it means, but that's the way I felt."Why on Earth would you want to have dinner with me?" I blurted before I could get my brain engaged."Why, because you're quite the most interesting man I've met in ages, and no one should look as desolate, as forlorn, as you do on such a crisp new day. Look at how blue the sky is! We. More

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