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

It suits him.
Pistol Pete. Isn’t that a cartoon character?
“I’m Roy.”
—Roy Rogers, an’ this here’s my stuffed brother, Rick the
Wonder Motherfucker.
Yodel yodel yeah hee ay
Old guy clears his throat.
Sounds to Roy like it hasn’t been cleared in years.
“See all them bookshelves?”
Noooo, thinks Roy. I do not. I do not see all them
bookshelves.
“I got me over a thousand movies there.” The old Pistol Pete
putters on.
“Really?”
And on.
Yodelyodel
Maybe the echoes are all in his head.
“That’s right,” puddles on porus Old Peter, as if he has
something important to say. “Mostly Westerns. I even have
silents. I have a copy of Ford’s Iron Horse—”
Has he? Really? Woah.
Woadel woadel hay hee ay
Seems Old Guy isn’t ready to be Quiet Guy yet. He goes on
and on, saying something about Westerns are myths and Ford’s a
car, then blahblahblah about Indians and rustlers and settlers—
meanwhile, Roy’s glass is empty, and he wants more yummy,
smack-lipping—
“—but seventies audiences lost interest in that. So, violence
became—”
—he goes on, does Pleasing Pete, Blessed Pete, Sweet Pete,
Gotta Pee Really Bad Pistol Pete, what a funny name, like a
cartoon character—thud
Roy’s glass rolls on the floor.
“Hey. Roy? You still with me?”
Roy nods, then quickly stops himself until the room catches
up.
“You OK, pardner?”
1 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY