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

squeak
He is still dressed, having made his way directly from Pete’s,
his head filled with the vapors of spirits and the smoke of C.
sativa.
He wonders if he ever finds a safe passage to the river.
“ROY!”
Roy’s heart shrinks at the sound of Rick’s voice.
“Roy! I know you’re in there! Open the fuckin’ door!”
Panic grips him. His mind races. He doesn’t know what to
do.
If he stays quiet, maybe Rick will go away.
Outside, a greasy light smears the sky.
If there was a fire escape, he could open the window and—
“ROY! You peckerheaded freak! Open this fuckin’ door—
NOW!”
Roy, his decision made for him, springs to his feet. He tears
the Bose headphones away from his ears.
He needs to pee.
Really, really bad.
He thinks to hide his new CD player lest Rick take that, as
well.
As well as all his money.
But hide it where—under the mattress?
Heart in his throat, eyes popped with fright, against his
will and better judgment he unlocks the thick white door that
sometimes protects him from the world, and cracks it open.
Just from the way he stands, he can tell Rick’s pissed off.
His leather jacket, stitched together from mismatched pieces,
is covered with hand-painted slogans, skulls and crossbones and
his bitch-list of women he’s fucked.
“Hey, bitch. What took so fuckin’ long? Pullin’ your pud?”
His gray watchcap with the peeling Mariners logo is beaded
with rain.
He elbows his way past Roy into the room.
His ferret face probes the room’s sparse contents.
“Whatta fuckin’ pit. Exactly the way I pictured it—Roy’s
hole.” He sniffs. “Even smells like your ass.”
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 2 1