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

did. With the exception, of course, of Young Frankenstein. Well,
no, he also likes The Producers a lot. As well as the more esoteric
Twelve Chairs. Space Balls was pretty funny in places. Pete has a
soft spot for John Candy. Because he liked Hitchcock, he also
liked High Anxiety, but it was patchy at best. Now, the first two
seasons of Get Smart waere so damned funny—
Where was he?
He’s lost his place.
Lost in Space. There was a good show.
He tries to refocus on Roy.
Roy, who sits like a bump on a log.
An ugly bump, at that.
So—?
(His eyes return to the paused image of Cleavon Little as Bart
about to brain Slim Pickins as Taggart with a shovel)
—oh, yeah.
Roy doesn’t think this is funny.
He doesn’t think Blazing Saddles is a hoot.
A riot.
He swivels his head back to Roy who, like a moth, stares into
the blue tube as if contemplating paradise.
Pete thumbs off the TV.
Roy shakes himself awake and looks at Pete.
“You don’t? Really?”
If one could be said to snort with incredulity, then Pete snorts
with incredulity.
“Why not?”
The reason escapes Roy. He has no words with which to
reply.
His language center, never a busy place, has closed for the
day.
And the night for that matter.
After a yawning abyss of quiet, he says,
“That man used the N-word.”
Pete stares.
“And?”
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 2