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

Mel, unopposed, pours.
clink
“So what’s up, Pete? Mentoring Roy into manhood?”
Pete shrugs.
“Sorta jess happened’s all.”
Mel farts.
“So did that.”
Pete employs his stemware to indicate Snoring Roy.
“He never hearda th’ Sons.”
Mel shakes his head.
“When he baked you a lasagna, Rick figured you were
bunkmates.”
“Sneaky little Bob Ford.”
“The dirty little coward who shot mister Howard, and laid
poor Jesse in his grave.”
“Necktie party most like in that hombre’s future.”
Mel nods, his attention drifting away.
A stoned silence ensues.
The old house ticks and pops.
“So.” Mel, snapping awake, licks his lips. “Big Roy Rogers
fan?” He tries to focus on the flame-flickered Pete.
Pete replies shruggingly, if such a thing is possible.
“Reckon so. Why dy’ask?”
Mel’s thoughts have to make exhausting detours around the
giant holes in his brain.
“Your, uhm—prayer.”
Pete crumples his forehead.
“Yeah? Seemed fittin’. Myself, I don’t do much Bible readin’
these days.”
“Did you ever?”
“Some, once, in th’ calaboose.”
“Did some time?”
Pete nods.
“Nickel.”
He tries not to ignite his nose while relighting his roach.
Mel regards the lighter’s flame.
“So.” His wandering eyes alight upon Roy’s fallen baldness.
“Bet he’s never hearda Hoot Gibson.”
12 ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY