Ignoring his attempt to scare me away, I posed a single word question, “So?”
He sighed loudly before asking back in a gruff, impatient tone, “So what kid?”
“What’s with the name?” I asked in the sweetest way possible.
He groaned as if someone had just served him a fresh slice of poop pie.
Curious if he was buying my sweet-boy act I partially turned in the chair so that I could see him out of the corner of my eye. With a single raised eyebrow, he questioned the sincerity of my diabetes causing sweetness before he shot back with, “It’s a nickname…” and punctuated it by referring to me the two-word version for sphincter.
When he didn’t provide more information I dropped all pretense of sweetness and stated flatly, “Well yeah obviously, but that doesn’t tell me how you got a nickna…”
Before I could finish he answered, “I picked it up when I was in the Navy. It’s short for Gilligan.”