“Is this some type of omen?” Billy asked Dickie.
“Let’s hope not,” Dickie replied.
“You know what I don’t understand?” Billy continued before Dickie could answer.
“When you die, they let you run every red light on your way to the cemetery. I mean, what’s the hurry? Seriously, at that point what’s the rush?”
“I never looked at it that way, but you’re right,” said Dickie, laughing.
“Plus, at this rate, I’ll be there sooner then you will, Dickie,” Billy said, gesturing toward the hearse.
“You’re probably right,” Dickie replied, “but how exactly do you figure?”
“I’m aging twice as fast as you are,” Billy answered, dead serious. “When I was 20 you were 40, right Dickie?”
“That’s right, Billy.”
“So I was half as old as you were. But when you’re 60, I’ll be 40, right?”
“Right, Billy, your point being?”
“At that point, I’ll be two thirds as old as you are. Forty is two thirds of 60. So even though I’m younger, I’m actually aging twice as fast as you are, you see?”
Totally perplexed, Dickie looked at Billy. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
“As a heart attack,” said Billy. “I mean, its simple math, Dickie, and math doesn’t lie. I’m aging twice as fast as you are.”
“You sure have a strange way of looking at things,” said Dickie, as he slid a little further away from Billy.
“I do. I’m so screwed,” Billy sighed. “It’s like if you’re having a good time and time goes by fast. Is your life actually shorter than if you were bored all the time and time just crept by?”
At this point in the conversation, Dickie decided it was best to get up and stretch. He moved quickly as if Billy’s point of view might be contagious. He was even more concerned that Billy was obviously completely serious. Worse yet, after giving it some thought, he was beginning to see his logic. It’s way too early in the tour to start agreeing with the artists, Dickie thought, as he stretched his hands over his head in the aisle of the bus.
