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

daddy wasn’t drunk and beating on us he used to listen to the
Grand Old Opry. Roy Acuff, Patsy Cline, Ernest Tubb, Hank
Williams—”
Jason rushes into the room.
“The dildo-thingy popped out.”
Mel bats his eyes.
“Then baste and turn off oven.”
Jason perches his left fist on his hip of the same side.
“I ain’t gonna use a fuckin’ baster, uh-uh. Them things weird
me out.”
Mel sighs.
“You boys find your places at the table. Dinner’s almost
ready—we’ll be right out.”
Grabbing Jason by the shoulders, he spins him around and
shoves him along the hall.
Pistol Pete sneaks a peek at Eponymous Roy.
“Well, well.”
He slips off his spangled jacket.
“Yeah.” Roy shucks his yellow raincoat.
Cardboard tents indicate who sits where. Mel has the table’s
head, with Roy on his right and Pete on his left. Rick sits next to
Roy, Jason next to Pete.
“This oughta be amusin’,” opines Pete. He hangs his jacket on
the back of his chair.
Roy scoots in across from him.
“Thanks for comin’, Pete.”
Pete squints at the renunculus wreath on the rim of his plate.
“No problem. I can see why you might not’ve wanted me to.”
Roy shrugs.
“Mel’s OK. Sometimes he can be a little weird’s all.”
Pete shrugs back.
“Hey—he’s from Texas. Gotta expect that.”
Roy nods.
“OK.”
Distracted by one of the paintings hanging nearby, Pete
scrapes back his chair and steps around the table for a closer
look.
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 0