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“Wait a minute … wait a minute … I got it!”
said Steve, our tall cowboy with the shaving brush moustache.
“Here’s what we can do … just listen a minute.”
The faithful no-card-carrying members of the Mule Barn truck stop’s
morningly congregation of the valley’s supreme court of dang near
everything hushed and sipped and listened.
Out on the road beyond the last of the parked pickups, they could
hear it “… so’s I was sayin’ jest set yerself down and scribble off
a note to Cane Bridge University …” and then it faded away as Windy
drove the Gates of Heaven restaurant’s loudspeaker car farther down
the main drag of town.
“See what I mean?” grinned Steve. “Hey, it’s a natural. Best April
Fool’s joke we ever gonna have.”
“You mean pull a joke on Windy?” said Dud.
“Sure. If ever a natural April Fool’s joke fell into our laps, this
here has to be the best. Sure beats the volcano we faked last year
by burning those tires.” [to top of second
column] |
Doc shook his head and looked up
from stirring his coffee.
“Guys,” he said, “we can’t do it. Well, shouldn’t do it, anyway. You
know how obsessed ol’ Windy is at getting that honorary college
degree. If we fooled him into thinking he was actually getting one …
it might just cause massive organ seizure or something.”
“Is that a medical term, Doc?” asked Bert.
“Nope. Just a natural fact.”
Several bites were taken from the sweet rolls and washed down with
coffee. Mavis brought more coffee.
“Doc’s right,” said Steve. “Can’t mess with a guy’s dream.”
Nods all around. Back to the drawing board.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Pick up “Home Country:
Drama, dreams and laughter from the American heartland”
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