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

Pete slides his chair out from under the table in preparation
for sliding himself out of selfsame chair.
He becomes erect.
“Best be headed out, Mel.”
Mel leans forward and stares.
“Pete. I do believe you’re erect.”
Pete slips on his fringed jacket.
“Thanks for th’ grub. An’ th’ talk.”
“It has been a delight.” Mel flattens hands upon the tabletop
and presses himself upward. “By all means go to California,
Pete. Swimmin’ pools. Movie stars.”
Pete’s fringes sway whitely.
“Ain’t nothin’ there fer me.”
“Roy’s museum,” Mel reminds.
Had this fact slipped Pete’s mind?
“Yup.”
“Just a thought.”
“Yup.”
And then those antediluvian snores.
Roy’s snores.
For some reason, he’s begun wearing pink-and-green tie-dyed
Bermuda shorts.
For some other reason—maybe the same reason, who
knows?—so has Pete.
Each grips a glass suitcase filled with snapping and popping
electric eels.
They stand on Mel’s front porch, a Bozo the Clown bop bag
rocking nearby.
Mel squeaks opens the screen door and steps outside. Upon
his head is perched a pith helmet. The remainder of his body is
dressed for safari.
“Boys! You returnin’ the helium pie?”
Pete rests his case and removes several tomatoes from his
jacket’s pockets. He hands these to Mel.
“Keep the change, ma’am.”
Smiling, Mel takes the tomatoes and puts them under his
helmet.
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 1