Carl was too young and inexperienced to be superstitious.

"Speaker feedback, broken strings, flickering lights -- those things happen at all clubs. You don't have to blame it on a ghost," Carl insisted. He was having a hard time believing the stories that Ratman and Mustang had been telling him.

Old George had joined the conversation, and he chuckled in a way that made Carl squirm.

"Course they do, Son," Old George assured him.

"But it's the pattern of 'festations, that's what ya gotta watch for," Ratman told the boy.

All three men turned to look at the empty stage. At that moment, the bass player's mike stand toppled sideways into Axman's mike, which fell, domino like, into the harp player's mike stand. The tangle of metal poles and wires finally fell off the stage onto the nearest table, sending customers scrambling.

"So, Jayhawk's pretty P.O.d tonight, huh?" Carl asked. A look of uncertainty had crept into his eyes.

"Hell no, Son!" Old George said, giving him a good-natured slap on the back. "Jayhawk's just teasin' now. Givin' the guy time to mend his ways. If the kid picks up Jayhawk's guitar next set, ever-thing'll be all right."

"And if he doesn't?" A little note of tremolo had crept into Carl's voice.

"Well then, we'll see what we does see," Old George said, nodding to himself.

"Why, I heard one time, Old Snake Eyes Thompson -- they called him Snake Eyes cause he had a bad wanderin' eye, ya see. So's when ya looked at him, it 'peared he was lookin' in two different directions 'twonce." Ratman said, rubbing his gnarled hands together with gusto. "Anyways, he and his band was in here. They'd just made their second record, they was actin' like big shots, wouldn't let anyone sit in with them, wouldn't play Jayhawk's guitar, hittin' on all the women, --"

"Includin' Miss Sarah," Old George added.

"Jayhawk, he specially don't like that," Ratman explained. "They 'as just making a general nuisance of 'emselves."

"That's 'bout right," Old George said.

The young bouncer was perfectly caught in the old men's double-barreled storytelling.

"Well, what happened?" Carl said, wide-eyed.

"They 'as killed," Old George said, matter-of-fact.

"Oh, Jayhawk toyed with them first," Ratman said. "Mike stands fallin', speakers cuttin' in 'n out, every string on stage broke: bass, lead, rhythm guitars."

"And fiddle," Old George said.

"That's right," Ratman nodded, recalling. "The strings broke, even the spares in the cases."

"Yessir!" Old George agreed. "They went to put the spares on and they was no good, comin' straight out of the packet."

"Jayhawk was flashin' lights, flippin' mikes off and on, even locked one of the fellas in the john. Then," Ratman dropped his voice to a whisper. Carl and George leaned closer to hear the rest of the story. "durin' the last set, old Jayhawk, he just up and quit. Din do nothin'. By that time, the musicians were so rattled, they couldn't hardly play a lick. They jus' kept waitin' for somethin' to go wrong."

"Never did," Old George said.

"No sir," Ratman declared. "Not till they was on their way home."

"Then what happened?" Carl squeaked.

"Why, they was killed. Van hit a slippery patch, spun outta control and ran into a ditch," Ratman said.

"They died in a car accident?" Carl said, feeling let down.

"That wasn't what killed 'em," Old George said, confidently.

"No?"

"Nah," Ratman said. "Their 'quipment did it. The amps and speakers stacked in the rear of the van slid forward. Police found 'em with their skulls crushed. Old Snake Eyes' eyeballs had popped out. They was sittin' up there on the dash, pretty as you please, lookin' round."

"Jayhawk got those boys in the end," Old George said, righteously.

Carl was feeling equal parts scared and foolish. But he didn't have time to give it much thought. There was money to collect from the people at the door, and the old men had already launched into their next story.

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