Excerpts from Robert B. Parkers last Spencer novel. Presumably
Spencer finished putting the final touches on his dinner – a quick Coquilles Saint-Jaques where he substituted a romegano for the gruyere. Although this particular dish was just shy of 6,500 calories, none of it showed on his masculine 6’2″ perfectly muscled frame. He was currently wearing skin tight acid-washed jeans and a blue denim work shirt unbuttoned to the belt. He had on black Adidas running shoes and rayban sunglasses.
Susan was coming over shortly, so he quickly prepared a pitcher of vodka gimlets, using 40 ounces of liquor. Although they would likely finish the entire thing, neither would display any signs of drunkenness. While he waited he drank four Red Rock beers. Yum.
Outside his apartment where he lived on his own uncompromising terms, beholden to no one, he heard a commotion. Strapping on his unlicensed Magnum to his broad back and then pausing to strap on a second and third handgun he rushed to the door, pausing again only to grab a quick fourth unlicensed handgun.
He opened the door
“What’s going on here?” he manfully demanded, quiet yet totally in control of the situation. A young woman was being accosted by a street punk. He was a huge street punk though, like massive and normal people would be scared of him. But not Spencer.
“Hit the road gramps” toughened the punk, trying to tenderize Spencer verbally. It was unsuccessful.
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference”. Spencer smiled .
“Wordsworth?” wondered the girl, in love already.
“Frost” smugged Spencer. For despite being self-educated and living on his own uncompromising terms, Spencer was also smart and awesome.
“Okay gramps, I’m going to take you out now and we should fight”. The huge, scary (not to Spencer) punk faced off.
He swung a lobbing overhand right at Spencer which he dodged easily. Breathing in, Spencer then hit him 14 times in the face, and finished with an uppercut. Normally this sort of beating would hospitalize a man and Spencer would likely be brought up on multiple assault charges but in this case, the punk just ran off.
“I’d like to have sex with you” moaned the now safe woman.
“Of course you would” agreed Spencer. “But alas, I am committed to Susan. You are the 9th woman to throw herself at me today.”
“Your rejection has left me as satisfied as your acceptance would have” responded the girl, mystified.
Spencer went back inside to have 6 more quick beers and a lobster roll. While waiting for Susan, he decided to work out and quickly bench-pressed 410 pounds without breaking a sweat. Then he realized how little TV he watched because he was awesome and went back to reading the collected poetry of the African Tribesman.
Suddenly, a phone call!