You can find a lot of good stuff in the right dumpster. There were good ones scattered around the city, and this one was his: none of the others would come to pick through it until he’d had his turn. But this time, he was interrupted.
“Find anything good?”
It was seven feet tall, beet red, with horns curling away from its temples. He’d hallucinated before on the D.T.s, but never like this. “You ain’t real.”
“I’m as real as you want me to be. How’d you like a bath, a meal, and a warm bed?”
“What I gotta do?”