Part VII

    It was July 13th, 2011, a Wednesday, and Angus was out on his balcony yelling across the street.
    "Hey 'er Harry! I'n a mind ta help a fella get rid a he'n lef'overs."  Harry was sitting outside the diner as the girls inside were finishing up the morning customers.
    "What?  I thought you done had your breakfast Jef'son.  You could smell them eggs and butter over here."
    "You'n smokin 'at grass already son.  'Tain't nothin but ol Big Bird's powdered s**t onna plate."   A few people hid embarrassed smiles and continued on their way.  Harry let out a laugh and got up to turn inside.
    "Well, if you like eatin s**t, I'll see what I can pull from the dumpster out back.  How's your Emma doin?"  
    "She'n still tendin tha daisies but I'n be damned if she'n talkin ma ear off'n while she'n does it."
    "Well, gimme a few and I'll be over to give her my best."
    Angus sat with his right hand resting on his stomach and the other one on the table.  A rare occurrence it was when he sat in silence.  He was satisfied, full of two sunny side up eggs, a bowl of honey grits, and three out of four sausage links.  A cup of straight, black coffee steamed on the table, even on this July morning.  Harry must have been having a good week for a meal such as this.  It might be another week or two before there would be another one, but each one was as good as always.  The two had talked on the balcony for a few short minutes before Angus' stomach, through the way of his nose, got the better of his mouth.  Now, he took a bite of the last piece of sausage.  The casing popped in his gums and a line of grease ran down the corner of his mouth.  He chewed slowly, savoring the moisture and spice before swallowing and speaking.
    "Naw Emma, I'n saw im' if he'n come out yet, 'at I would."  
    Another bite off the sausage, and more grease.
    "He'n not more'n five minutes ont either side 'a 6:30.  As sure I'n know I'm Angus Jef'son, I'n know he'n late."
    A slow slurp of coffee was followed by a guttural burp and Angus wiped his mouth.
    "He'n n'arnt sickly wom'n.  'At boy might could use good ol red meat on he'n bones, but he'n n'arnt sickly."
    He finished off the sausage and let both hands rest on his stomach.
    "I'n know he'n up ta so'em for a good minit, I'n n'arnt sure jest what he'n up ta.  I'n bout wonder..."
    He rightly wondered if he'd ever find out what Jarvis had really been doing all this time.  It just wasn't the way he'd expected.