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

Pete stands and the floor creaks as he steps to the shelf that
supports his VCR.
He pops out Stagecoach, re-sleeves it and carefully replaces it
amongst its peers.
If Stagecoach can be said to have a peer.
“Roy?”
He calls this over his shoulder.
“Hm?”
“Wanna laugh yer ass off?”
“Sure.”
“Here.” Pete slides out another tape. “This’ll kill you.”
He un-sleeves it and pops it into the machine.
Roy, uncertain sounding as ever, replies,
“OK.”
Pete wobbles back to his throne.
“I have a treat—”
He flops into his wingback chair.
As he had the night—or was it two nights?—before, Pete
reaches for something on the far side of his chair. This time,
instead of a bottle of Kahlua, he brings forth a small wooden
box.
He slides its tightly-fitted top open and releases into the room
an aroma.
Pete’s elderly fingers emerge with a plastic baggie.
Returning his attention to Roy, who watches intently, he asks,
“You smoke weed?”
Roy knits his brow.
How he hates to let people down.
Lying to Pete could not, as with Rick, be considered an act of
survival. Roy thinks it would not be a very good way to begin a
friendship.
So, regretfully, he shakes his head No.
Pete scratches a bristly jowl as he takes this information in.
“Never?”
Downcast, Roy shakes his head again.
“You are indeed a rare bird, Roy Weston.”
Roy rolls his shoulders.
“Wanna try? This is some fantastic shit.”
2 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY