volume one IN THE D U D L E Y C L A R K - Ohio Vine Tours

the song had sounded so much nicer on the big speakers than in
his tiny 8 ohm headphones.
“Asshole!”
Glaring Guy wrenches the tape out of the 38 pounds of
brushed stainless steel and hurls it at Roy. No longer glaring, his
his face is contorted with rage.
“You—You godamned FREAK!”
The hurled tape hits Roy in the chest. Roy’s hands spring to
his defense, grabbing the tape before it falls and possibly breaks
on the concrete floor.
“Get the fuck out’ve here!”
Roy backs away.
Glaring Guy is speaking loud enough now for public distance (12
feet and over).
“Take that hairy-assed Lawrence Welk shit outta here
and don’t you EVER come back—you hear me you you sick
motherfuckinsonofabitch!”
Roy clutches his tape to his chest and backs away from the
counter quickly, headphones dragging on the floor.
“And get your fuckin’ headphones off my clean floor!”
Roy’s back encounters the front door’s panic bar.
Glaring Guy, with whom Roy had once felt some sense of
rapport, has taken his glare to new heights.
Roy reels in his headphones as he backs through the door.
ting-a-ling ting-a-ling
Since no braincrushing music is being played inside the
Wailing Wall, and since he is not listening to really, really loud
droogy shit on his headphones, Roy hears the little brass bells for
the very first time.
ting-a-ling
He had never even known they were there, having passed
insouciant beneath them for years.
ting-a-ling ting-a-ling-a-ling
Even the guy with the catastrophic glare notices them, also
perhaps for the very first time.
The front door shuts, assisted by its hydraulic closer, and Roy
backs out into the cold day.
ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 1