Rod and Mario were lamenting a painful Tiger's loss.
I took the last swallow from my beer. "Please, turn it off Roger."
The bartender reached for the remote. "You boys want another round," he said, flicking through the channels on the TV.
"I sure could use one," said Uncle Billy.
"You buying?" I asked.
"I thought you were," said Billy. "Isn't this the day you get your royalty payment?"
"I never forget anything that means you have money to buy beer."
I put my arms on the bar and leaned forward. "Well, this month the stipend was a little meager."
"What? No three digit deposit?"
"No ... only forty bucks."
"Forty bucks? That's a 60% decrease."
I looked a Billy. "So, you're an accountant now?"
"Why the big drop off?"
"I thought you said you were going to do a better job marketing Headwind than that other book ..."
"Yeah, Northern Whatever. What happened?"
I pushed my hat back and rubbed my face. "What can I say ... I suck at marketing."
"Come on ... how hard can it be?"
"It's extremely hard ... especially marketing something as esoteric as a book. You've got to build a platform and ..."
"Platform? What the hell is that?"
"Your image, I guess. You know, what you're all about."
"Well that sounds like about ten minutes of effort on your part," said Billy. "Hey, Roger, bring us that round."
The bartender set down the remote. "Sure, Billy."
"You're buying?" I asked.
"Why should we all suffer because you can't hustle your books?"