“Mornin’ Ralph.”

“Mornin’ Sam.”

“Brand new week on the farm.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Opening game of the series. Top of the first. Nothin’ to nothin’.”

“That’s right.”

“Ready to steal some sheep?”

“Yeah. You ready to guard ’em?”

“Yeah. Alright, it’s 9 a.m. Time to punch in. God help you son. You ain’t gettin’ no sheep today!”

“I'm afraid you’re off your game Sam.”

“Yeah, I’m getting old Ralph.”

“Ever get bored of the job?”

“Been working the job for 28 years. It’s what I know.”

“But don’t it get tiresome? Me tryin’ to steal the sheep. You tryin’ to guard ’em .”

“Depends on the day really.”

“What if we switched sides every once in a while? Just to mix it up.

“We’d get fired. C’mon, look, I’m getting hungry.”

“Alright… Let’s head to Jimmy’s for lunch.”

“Well, lookee here! We got us a Petunia!”

“How you doing gentlemen? What can I get you?”

“You hear that Ralph? She called us gentlemen. Ain’t never seen you here before hon.

You must be new.”

“Ain’t never been here before hon, and you must be good at puttin’ two and two

together.”

“She’s a live one, ain’t she Ralph?”

“So, what would you like?”

“Beef sandwich.”

“How ’bout you handsome?”

“You hear that Ralph? She called you handsome.”

“Beef sandwich with radish sauce.”

“It ain’t called radish sauce Ralph.”

“I know it ain’t Sam.”

“Anything else? Coffee?”

“I don't drink coffee. Gives me the jitters.”

“I don’t drink it neither. I just don’t like it.”

“Alright.”

“What do you think of Miss Petunia here Ralph?”

“I don’t know Sam. I met her a minute ago, just like you.”

“So, you’re dissatisfied with the job, are you? What don’t you like about it?”

“It’s repetitive.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the same thing, over and over: Me tryin’ to steal the sheep. You tryin’ to guard

’em.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“You know Sam, the job ain’t gonna be around forever. Sheep farming is on the

decline, has been since the war. Troops hated the mutton rations.”

“Didn’t know.”

“Don’t read the trade magazines?”

“No.”

“The world is changing Sam. You can’t keep your head in the sand forever.”

“I can pull the wool over my eyes.”

“Not forever, you can’t.”

“Until I retire I can. That’s all I need; I ain’t retooling.”

“Here you go gentlemen.”

“You hear that Ralph? She called us gentlemen again.”

“Radish sauce is good today.”

“Why do you call it radish sauce?”

“I don’t know. It tastes like radishes.”

“So, what’s your name, honey?”

“Honey. It's a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?”

“You called me honey, and my name’s Honey. It’s a coincidence.”

“I call everybody honey, Honey.”

“Well I guess you got it right this time.”

“She's a sharp one, ain’t she Ralph? Look, we eat here all the time. Might as well know

what to call you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right Sam.”

“How’d you know my name is Sam?”

“That’s what Ralph here calls you. Deborah. My name’s Deborah.”

“Deborah. My name’s Deborah.”

“Deborah huh? That right? I like that name.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to hear it Sam.”

“So, Debbie—”

“I don’t like being called Debbie.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Why you askin’?”

“’Cause I’m curious.”

“Well I ain’t tellin’, and it’s a crying shame I won’t ain’t it? What line of work you

boys in?”

“You hear that Ralph? Now we’re boys. Stealin’ and guardin’ sheep.”

“Stealin’ and guardin’ sheep? What do you mean?”

“You seen that new cartoon on TV Deborah, where these two fellas work on a sheep

farm, and one fella tries to steal the sheep, and the other fella tries to guard ’em?”

“Yeah, it’s funny.”

“Well, that's what we do. He tries stealin’ them and I try guardin’ them.”

“Lost a few today, haven’t you Sam?”

“I’ll get ’em back.”

“That’s really what you do?”

“That’s right.”

“For a livin?”

“That’s correct.”

“Just like in the cartoon?”

“Just like in the cartoon.”

“Well ain’t that something.”

“Alright Sam, back to work. ‘Idle hands doth betray the pasture.’”

“What?”

“It’s old Gaelic sheep farmer saying.”

“Really?”

“No, I just made it up.”

“I hate it when you do that Ralph.”

“‘Hatred in the brains of Sam draw nigh the wolf to shepherd’s lamb.’”

“Ralph!”

“Sorry Sam.”

“So what do you think of her?”

“Who?”

“Deborah, who do you think?”

“I don’t know Sam. I met her 20 minutes ago, just like you.”

“Well I kinda like her. I think I might just marry her someday. Where you think she’s

from?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask her next time.”

“Alright. So, thinking of quittin’ the job, are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Think you’d be better suited for something else, do you?”

“Might.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, something else.”

“Yeah, I know something else. Don't string it out Ralph. I wonder why she don’t like

being called Debbie?”

“I don't know Sam. We’ll ask her next time. A pilot.”

“A pirate?”

“No Sam, a pilot.”

“What kind of pilot?”

“An airplane pilot. I wanna fly an airplane.”

“For a living?”

“Yeah, for a living. That’s what I’m saying.”

“How does one become a pilot?”

“You take flying lessons.”

“Where?”

“At a flight school.”

“How long?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“What kind of plane you wanna fly.”

“What kind of plane you wanna fly?”

“I don’t know Sam.”

“What do you think of Debbie?”

“Deborah. She goes by Deborah.”

“Yeah, that’s right… You ever wonder about time Ralph?”

“Time?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I have, ’least no more than the average person.”

“Well I wonder about it, probably more than the average person.”

“What do you wonder about it Sam?”

“I don’t know, like, where’s it come from? Where’s it go? How long does it last? Stuff

like that. Seems to run our lives, and you can’t even see it.”

“Can’t see gravity neither.”

“Well that may be true, but you don’t need to calibrate gravity. Sure do need to calibrate

time though, dontcha? Seconds, minutes, hours. The whole thing seems arbitrary, don’t

you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, there could be whole different units of measure, with different names than they

got now.”

“You want ’em to?”

“No, that ain’t the point! You ever read Einstein Ralph?”

“No, can’t say I have. You?”

“Yes I have.”

“You understand it?”

“I’m not sure. But he says this real interesting thing about time.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, the faster something moves through the three dimensions of physical space, the

slower it moves through time.”

“That right? What happens if you move backwards?”

“Don’t matter which way you move.”

“Well I do say that is interesting Sam, but what can you do with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s it good for? What’s its practical value?”

“What do you think of Debbie Ralph?”

“Deborah. She wants to be called Deborah.”

“You think she’s pretty?”

“I don't know. I never thought about it.”

“It’s not the sort of thing you have to think about Ralph. Either she’s pretty or she ain’t.”

“No middle ground?”

“Alright, does she strike you as more prettier than not?”

“I don’t know Sam. She’s somewhere in between, most people are.”

“Yeah, I know, but which side of in between?”

“I don’t know. We’ll ask her next time.”

“Fine. So what kind of plane you wanna fly?”

“You already asked me that question.”

“You didn’t answer it. Need more time to think about it?”

“Since you keep bringing up time Sam, doesn’t 28 years seem like a long time to be

working the same job?”

“Yeah, it does. But eight more years, I can retire with a full pension. Probably even get a gold watch.”

“That’s nice. What are you gonna do with it? Wind it up and read Einstein?”

“You think sheep have any conception of time?”

“Nah, ain’t got the brains for it.”

“Think they like it here on the farm?”

“Yeah, I guess. They got a pretty good life. ’Till the day they sell ’em for slaughter, make

lamb chops out of ’em. You eat lamb chops Sam?”

“Never had ’em. Little too close to home. You?”

“Nah, I just don’t like ’em.”

“Well, I guess we’re not eating any for lunch then.”

“Afternoon boys.”

“You hear that Ralph? She called us boys again. Good to see you Deborah, and you’re

right about it being afternoon.”

“Beef sandwich?”

“Yup.”

“Beef sandwich with radish sauce?”

“Yup.”

“It ain’t called radish sauce Ralph.”

“I know it ain’t Sam.”

“Anything else?”

“Nah.”

“Nah.”

“Alright.”

“Here you go gentlemen.”

“You hear that Ralph? We’re gentlemen again. Couple minutes ago, we were boys. Now we’re gentlemen.”

“Time flies Sam.”

“Well, what would you two like me to call you: boys, gentlemen, or something else?”

“That’s under your control Debbie.”

“I asked you not to call me Debbie.”

“Yeah, you did. I’m sorry Deborah...”

“You know Deborah, I think Sam likes you.”

“Ralph!”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it Sam.”

“Yeah, I know there ain't nothing wrong with it Ralph, but couldn’t you wait ’till I was in the bathroom or something to tell her?”

“Why you wanna be in the bathroom when I tell her?”

“Jesus, can we just eat lunch?”

“We are eating lunch.”

“So, this thing about you two stealin’ and guardin’ sheep. How’s that work?”

“Already told you Deborah: He steals ’em, and I guard ’em.”

“Lost a few today, haven’t you Sam?”

“I’ll get ’em back.”

“Where do you work? At Sam and Ralph’s Sheep Farm Emporia?”

“We don’t own the job company Deborah.”

“Well where is it?”

“Samuels Farm.”

“Plural or possessive?”

“Neither. Just the last name of the owner, Samuels.”

“Well why in the world would he pay you two for stealing and guarding his sheep? I

don’t see the point of it.”

“Me neither. You Ralph?”

“Nope. Never have.”

“So how long you been in town Deborah? Where you from?”

“Three weeks and Milwaukee.”

“Milwaukee huh? Never been there before.”

“Most people haven’t.”

“Why’d you move here?”

“Needed the job.”

“Ain’t got no waitress jobs in Milwaukee?”

“None that I want… Alright, if you gotta know, me and my husband had it out, OK?”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He killed himself.”

“Sure you didn’t kill him?”

“Jesus Sam!"

“Nah, I didn’t kill him, and if I did, you think I’d be saying?”

“No, probably not. Why’d he do it?”

“I don’t know exactly. Just said he was bored.”

“Bored? Bored with you? I don’t see how any man could be bored with you Deborah.

I mean, maybe they wouldn’t like you much, but—"

“Sam!”

“He just said he was bored. Bored with everything.”

“How’d he do it?”

“Kill himself, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not real sure how he done it. I just walked in the garage one day, and there he was,

dangling from a rope with a noose around his neck.”

“Must have died by hangin.’”

“I suppose.”

“Damn Deborah, that’s horrible. I don’t know what to say.”

“Neither did he. Not much you can say hanging dead from a rope.”

“You know, me and Ralph be happy to show you around town a little. Help ease the

transition.”

“That’s real nice of you fellas, really, but I ain’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You

understand. Anyway, it’s called horseradish sauce.”

“What?”

“The sauce you’ve been talking about. It’s called a horseradish sauce.”

“Horseradish sauce?”

“That’s right. You know why it’s called horseradish sauce Sam?”

“Why?”

“’Cause it ain’t fancy enough to call it hollandaise sauce.”

“Good one Deborah. Where they get the horses?”

“What horses?”

“The ones they slaughter and mix into the radish sauce.”

“For Christ’s sake Sam! I’m sorry Deborah. He don’t know when to stop sometimes.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Pretty funny when you think about it.”

“So, c’mon Deborah, let us show you around. Just hang out a little. No pun intended.”

“None taken.”

“Must be some things you’d want to know about your new environs. Gotta have some

questions you’d wanna ask.”

“Well that’s sweet of you Sam. What kind of questions you think I might wanna ask?”

“Maybe if there’s a law against hangin’?”

“Shut up Sam!”

“Nah, it’s fine. Pretty funny when you think about it. Or right after you think about it.

You almost got me laughing right here in the restaurant!”

“Why don’t you Deborah?”

“I just moved here. I can’t be laughing in public.”

“There’s only three of us Deborah. I wouldn’t call it a public.”

“Well, God Almighty Sam! You got me standing here, laughin’ my fool head off, despite

my best efforts to the contrary. You really want to show me around Sam?”

“I think he does Deborah.”

“Well I want to hear it from him. You want to show me around Sam or dontcha?

Ain’t no middle ground.”

“Pretty straight forward question Sam. I wouldn’t equivocate if I was you.”

“I would. Yes, I would like to show you around Deborah. That’d be real nice. I mean,

whenever you got time.”

“Tonight, 7:30, when I get off work. Think you’ll be done stealin’ the sheep by then?”

“No, I’m the one that steals them, Deborah. He’s the one that guards them.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Think you’ll be done guarding the sheep before 7:30 p.m. Sam?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“You sure about all this Sam? Probably should check your social calendar.”

“Shut up Ralph. See you tonight at 7:30 Deborah. That be real nice.”

“Mornin’ Ralph.”

“Mornin’ Sam. How’d it go?”

“How did what go?”

“Jesus Sam, your date with Debbie. What do you think?”

“She don’t like to be called Debbie.”

“What did you do?”

“Went to Chelsea’s.”

“Chelsea’s? Chelsea’s Diner? For Christ’s sake Sam, you took her to a diner?”

“That’s where she wanted to go.”

“What did you eat?”

“We split a shake.”

“One straw or two?

“What do you mean?”

“Did you each have a separate straw or did you share one?”

“Shared one.”

“Really. Gonna see her again?”

“Yeah, tonight. After I crush your hopes of stealin’ the sheep.”

“What are you going to do with her tonight? Hang her?”

“Nah. But I’ll tell you Ralph, she didn’t much like him.”

“Who? Her husband?”

“Yeah.”

“Think she hung ’em?”

“Nah, she didn’t hung ’em, but she’d been more than happy to. She told me she hated him so much, she could have shot him.”

“‘Could have’ as in ‘would like to have’ or ‘could have’ as in ‘might have?”’

“That’s what I asked her.”

“Yeah?”

“She said it could have gone either way.”

“That’s pretty funny.”

“Yeah I thought so.”

“Well, good luck tonight Sam. Don’t hang her.”

“Shut up Ralph. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow Sam.”

“Mornin’ Ralph.”

“Mornin’ Sam. Well?”

“It went good. We had a real nice time.”

“What did you do?”

“Went ice skating.”

“Ice skating? Where'd you go?”

“To the ice rink Ralph, where the hell you think? There’s only one in town.”

“Alright, alright. Did you do anything after that?”

“Yeah, we took a walk in the park.”

“You hold her hand?”

“I did, and it was real nice too.”

“She hold your hand?”

“Yeah Ralph, we held each other’s hand at the same time. How else you gonna do it?”

“Alright… Still thinking about time?”

“Not so much lately.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t. Wanna think about it now?”

“OK…”

“Well you got to start the conversation Sam, and I’ll jump in as we go.”

“Alright. I wonder if it exists.”

“You think it does?”

“I don’t want it to, but I’m leaning toward it does.”

“Why don’t you want time to exist Sam?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have to think about it all the time. ‘How much time before we can punch out?’ ‘What time’s the game come on?’ ‘What time is it in Hong Kong?’ Stuff like that. Slows you down in life.”

“What does Deborah think about time?”

“I don’t know. I never asked her.”

“What’s she think about the job? She’s got to wonder. Most people think it's just in the cartoons.”

“I don’t know. It’s never come up.”

“Seems like you don’t know much about what she thinks about nothing.”

“Don’t need to. I’m happy about whatever she thinks about everything. So when you gonna start flight school?”

“Started last night.”

“Oh Yeah? How long ’till you get your license?”

“Well, if I train a few times a week, maybe four or five months. Then I can start flying the little ones.”

“Well I’m real happy for you Ralph. I really am.”

“Thanks Sam.”

“Alright, you steal ’em. I guard ’em. I think you’re in the lead so far this week.”

“Last couple weeks, actually. Does that bother you Sam?”

“I been working the job for 28 years. I don’t know what I think about none of it no more.”

“Well, I see two ways you might think about it. One, is that as a veteran of the occupation, you feel you shouldn’t be bested by a newcomer. Or, maybe you’re just getting tired of the work, and it’s time for you to move on.”

“You know, the more I think about it Ralph, the more I think you might be right.”

“About what?”

“Quittin’ the job. We could quit together. Then there’d be no need for you to be stealin’ the sheep, and no need for me to spend half my goddamn life trying to guard ’em. The whole thing’s ridiculous when you think about it.”

“What about the sheep? Can’t just leave them here.”

“I don’t see why we can’t, but alright, I guess we do bear some responsibility for their welfare. Let’s say we took them with us. If we took them one at a time, maybe Samuels wouldn’t notice.”

“Not at first, but he’s got to eventually, no matter how many lug nuts he’s missing.”

“Well, if we took them all at once, how would we get ’em outta here?”

“Good question. Here’s another one: What would we do with them? Slaughter them, cut ’em up, pack ’em, and sell ’em? We ain’t got no customer base.”

“Well, I guess we could keep a couple of them. Too bad we don’t like eatin’ them.”

“Deborah like sheep? Maybe she could hang one in the garage.”

“She didn’t hang her husband Ralph.”

“I know she didn’t Sam. So, the guy who owns this place, Samuels…”

“Yeah?”

“What’s his first name?”

“Tom.”

“Tom, huh? Tom Samuels.”

“That’s how he signs the checks.”

“Don’t he got a son who works here too?”

“Yes, he does. You’ve seen him. Wears the same pair of overalls every day.

”

“What’s his name?”

“Samuels.”

“What’s his first name?”

“Tom.”

“Tom, huh? Tom Junior… Now here’s something to ponder: What if Tom Junior’s grandfather went by Tom Senior, grandfather on his father’s side. Wouldn’t that make Tom Senior a Tom Junior? And wouldn’t they keep getting more and more junior each generation?”

“I don’t know, maybe there’s rules about it.”

“Tom Junior, huh? Was Tom Junior raised on the farm?”

“Sure was.”

“How about Tom Senior?”

“Born and raised. The Samuels family has owned the farm for three generations, maybe more. The farm is everything to Tom Senior. He don’t care about nothin’ else in life, including Tom Junior.”

“What does Tom Junior think of his father?”

“Hates him. Should too. His father hounds him, calls him an idiot, and works him to the bone. It’s gotta be a miserable life for the boy. Poor Tom Junior.”

“Yeah. Poor Tom Junior.”

“Tom Senior knows every inch of that farm, watches over it like a hawk all the time. All the time except for four days at the end of August when the Samuels go on vacation.”

“Short vacation.”

“Tom Senior wouldn’t go at all if his wife didn’t make him. Nah, he’d be working on the farm every day of his life, keeping his nose to the grindstone ’till he ground the damn thing off and died.”

“Where do they go?”

“Letcher county.”

“Letcher county? What the hell you gonna do for vacation in Letcher County?”

“They visit Mrs. Samuels family. Tom Senior hates going there, but it’s only for a few days and it ain’t too far away from the farm, so he puts up with it. Best chance to get them sheep is while they’re gone.”

“If we can figure out how to steal them and what to do them.”

“Maybe someone else steals them and we divvy up the profits. Them sheep worth a lot of money.”

“Have to be an inside job.”

“Well, Tom Junior does work here on the farm, don’t he?”

“Yes he does.”

“You think Tom Junior might like to have a drink now and again?”

“I’ve seen him with a flask.”

“Maybe we take Tom Junior out for drinks to get his opinion on the matter. We suggest to him that if somehow all the sheep disappeared one night, neither he nor us would fret much about it. We don’t know how it happened, and he don’t know how it happened, being as we weren’t there, and he was asleep. Can’t blame the boy for sleeping at night, can you?”

“No you can’t.”

“Ever hear of the Hatfields and the McCoys Ralph?”

“Yeah.”

“Well the Hatfields settled across the Tug River in West Virginia. But the McCoys settled here in Pike County, not far from where we’re standing right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Some of the McCoys are still around, ’least their offspring, and they don’t much like the Samuels, and the Samuels don’t much like the McCoys neither.”

“Yeah?”

“The McCoys are hard to find, but the Samuels are easy to find. The farm’s just sitting there, right out in the open.”

“Yeah?”

“So what if one night the McCoys, ’least what’s left of them, came by and stole the sheep? Hell, we’d help them do it. If Tom Junior don’t know what happened, then Tom Senior don’t know what happened. And if the event were to take place on the weekend, ain’t no way we’d know what happened neither. The sheep be gone, and we could quit our jobs. Hell, we wouldn’t even have to quit ’em; it be a fait accompli.”

“What’s that mean Sam?”

“Means we wouldn’t have no choice in the matter. Our jobs would be eliminated by default.”

“What about Tom Junior?”

“What about him?”

“He needs to get something out of it, more than just being kicked out of the house by his father.”

“I’m not sure he does Ralph, but I’ll make sure the McCoys give him a cut. Them sheep worth a lot of money. McCoys sure be happy to have ’em. Of course, we’d get a substantial finder’s fee. You know what people sometimes call a herd of sheep Ralph? A flock. A flock of sheep. Makes it seem like they can fly, don’t it?”

“Sure does.”

“Guess ours just flew the coop.”

“Mornin’ Ralph.”

"Mornin' Sam."

“Weather nice last weekend.”

“Yeah it was. Get out there and practice your defensive maneuvers?”

“Nah, I don’t waste my time on that no more.”

“How’s Deborah doing?”

“Good.”

“How are you and Deborah doing? You two been together for a while now.”

“I like her a lot Ralph.”

“She’s a fine woman Sam.”

“Yeah, she is. I’d sure hate to lose her.”

“Why would you lose her? Something wrong? You two been quarreling?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just getting old Ralph. Gonna be an old man before I know it, almost one now. Deborah might not want to stay with an old man like me.”

“Ah Sam, c’mon, don’t say that. You’re no old man. Anyway, Deborah’s aging same as

you. You’ll grow old together. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“What do you know about how it’s supposed be? You don’t nothin’ about getting old.”

“I understand aging as much as anybody.”

“Growing up and getting old ain’t the same thing Ralph.”

“Maybe not, but you’re nowhere near being an old man. You don’t look no older than Deborah, maybe even a little younger. She’s lucky to have you.”

“What makes you think I’m younger than Deborah? She look old to you?”

“No Sam, I didn’t say that, and I don’t think it neither. Deborah’s a real good looking woman.”

“Good for her age you mean?”

“No! That’s not what I said! C’mon Sam, knock it off!”

“I’m sorry Ralph.”

“I don’t know how old Deborah is anyway. Don’t even know how old you are.”

“Age don’t matter.”

“You keep bringing it up.”

“Getting cloudy. Think it’ll storm?”

“Nah, probably just a little rain.”

“Can’t say for sure though.”

“No, you can’t. Weather can be fickle in Kentucky.”

“Weather can be fickle anywhere.”

“Yeah, it can. Nothing special ’bout the weather in Kentucky I suppose.”

“A lot of sheep grazin’ out there today.”

“Yeah, there are. More than usual. How’s that work anyway?”

“It’s up to Samuels.”

“How does Samuels know when to take them to pasture?”

“It’s under his discretion.”

“Yeah, I know it is, but how does he decide?”

“I don’t know. I ain’t him.”

“Think Tom Junior has any input on it?”

“Doubt it. I don’t think Tom Junior has much input on anything that happens on the farm. Don’t matter one way or the other to us. We just need him to go along the plan.”

“You think he will, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he will. I’d bet my ass on it. Tom Junior ain’t as dumb as he looks.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Nothing really. But he’ll do it. Lot of money in them sheep.”

“So when we taking Tom Junior out for drinks?”

“I don’t know, maybe sometime next week.”

“Next week? The Samuels are leaving at the end of the month, right? We should be meeting with Tom Junior this week.”

“Ah, we’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you’re looking at things realistically here Sam. If we want to make the best of our time here on God’s green earth, I think we need to be moving a little faster.”

“Ah c’mon Ralph, it’s supposed to be nice again this weekend. I’d like to relax a little

before we set out.”

“It’s Monday Sam.”

“Yeah, I know what day it is. Two nights’ sleep, it’ll be Wednesday, then Thursday, then

Friday, start of the weekend.”

“I don’t know Sam…”

“Don’t worry Ralph, it’ll be fine. You worry too much. I’m starting to feel a little under the weather anyway. Might be coming down with a cold. I can’t fight them off like I used to. I get tired. My thinkin’ don’t work so good. I need to be on top of things when we meet with Tom Junior.”

“Alright, next Monday then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Me and Deborah are going to the ice capades.”

“The ice capades?”

“Yeah, the ice capades.”

“What are the ice capades?”

“They’re like a traveling entertainment show. The skaters are national champions.”

“Why aren’t they competing in tournaments?”

“Well, they’re former national champions. They ain’t got it in ’em no more to compete,

so they put on a show.”

“Alright, Tuesday then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Me and Deborah are going ice skating.”

“Ice skating?”

“Yeah, ice skating.”

“Ain’t the ice capades good enough for you?”

]

“No, ’cause I don’t get no exercise. Got to get exercise to keep God’s mercy.”

“Alright, Wednesday then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Got to recover from ice skating on Tuesday. I ain’t no former national champion. Takes a lot out of me. It’s hard on my body. I get cramps.”

“Then why do you do it if it’s so hard on your body? Why not take it a little easier on

yourself?”

“Because I enjoy it. Deborah too. Frees the soul.”

“Frees the soul, does it? Soul of Jesus. What, you gonna you walk on water now?”

“Easier to skate on it than to walk on it Ralph, especially for a man of my age. I like to

get out there early, a little before they open.”

“And why is that Sam?”

“Because no one has skated on the ice yet. It’s all fresh and new. Nothing on it, just a

blank slate as some philosopher called it. Ain’t been all scraped up and scarred yet.”

“But it’s gonna get all scraped up and scarred, ain’t it? Some people are gonna fall on the ice. Some people are gonna die. The ice knows that.”

“The ice don’t know nothin’ Ralph. It just sits there, pure as the new fallen snow.”

“You any good at it?”

“Of falling?”

“Of skating. ‘Are you a good skater?’ is what I'm asking.”

“I know what you’re asking boy. And no, I ain’t. Should have done more of it when I was a child. Gotten all scraped up and scarred then, taken my lickens as one should as a boy and grown up to be a man. But I didn't, and that’s how it is. I have to live with it, and I’ll have to die with it too.”

“So, we gotta wait ’till next Thursday, huh? Just so your sorry ass can be young again.”

“That’s right boy. Just so my sorry ass can be young again.”

“You know Sam, you’ve taking to callin’ me ‘boy’ a lot lately. Why is that?”

“Because you’re like a son to me Ralph, the son I never had.”

“You don’t look all that old Sam. I’m not sure you’re old enough to be my father.”

“Sure I am boy.”

“Don’t look it.”

“Everyone says I look young for my age. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse.”

“Why would it be a curse? People like to look younger than they are.”

“Well that’s their business, ain’t mine.”

“You know Sam, you always say you been working the job for 28 years. You sure you

been working the job that long?”

“Twenty-eight years is a longer to you than it is to me Ralph.”

“How’s that?”

“Twenty-eight years is longer than you’ve been on the face of the earth boy.”

“That may be true Sam, but you didn’t answer my question. How long you been working the job?”

“Ain’t your concern how long I’ve been working the job. The more you ask, the less I

tell. Don’t matter anyway. None of it does. You see Ralph, when we die, as the body decays, the skin pulls in a little leaving the hair and the fingernails sittin’ there for a while. That’s what you are then: bones, hair, and fingernails. Then the hair and the fingernails decay, and you’re just a pile of bones, nothing more. It ain’t pretty boy. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That’s all there is. That’s all there’ll ever be.”

“So that’s why you skate, huh? To keep your hair and your fingernails looking good for

when you die. You think a lot about your death, don’t you Sam? What you should be thinking about is your time here on earth. But you don’t like to think about that. It scares you. So you just turn a blind eye and say you’re getting old. Let time pass you by, heave a sigh of relief, and die. Be done with it, once and for all. The good Lord gave you the gift of life and you won’t even open it. You’re just waiting for the day when the grim reaper comes to take it. Meantime, you’ll tell anyone who will listen that it don’t matter anyway. None of it does. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

You’re right Sam. I am still a boy, and there’s a lot I gotta learn about life. But you ain't never learned it yourself. You’re afraid to learn it. So you figure, if I’m your boy, then you ain’t gotta do nothin’ except be my pa. You can live your life through mine. Pass on your pearls of wisdom, tell me to do my best, and see what happens. You just hedge your bets, so that if I grab the world by the balls and crush it, you can be proud of me; you can call me your son. And if I don’t, ain’t no shame you didn’t neither when you had the chance. Either way, you can die in peace. Ain’t that right, pa?

You play God Almighty, the Holy Father, and you’ve chosen me as your only begotten son, your sacrificial lamb. I bear the cross of life on earth, while you just sit up there on your throne in heaven and watch the show, like it’s the ice capades or the Saturday morning cartoons. You like it that way, don’t you Sam? Alright, we’ll talk with Tom Junior next Thursday. That’s fine. I’ll be there, standing side by side with you, eager as always, with everything I said tonight and everything you said tonight gone and forgotten. It’ll be a brand new, spanking clean, blank slate.”

“Mornin’ Ralph.”

“Mornin’ Sam. Sam, I said a lot of things last night I shouldn’t have said. I feel real bad

about it. It wasn’t right, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“No Ralph, everything you said last night was right. You gave me my comeuppance, and I rightly deserved it.”

“Sam, you look like you’re gonna cry.”

“I’ve been crying since the minute you left. I love you Ralph. I love you dearly, as if you were my own flesh and blood, and I ain’t saying that as some washed up, wanna be father.”

“I love you too Sam. I really do. Now, let’s put our fiendish plot into action. What time are we meeting Tom Junior on Thursday?”

“Ain’t decided yet.”

“What do you mean you ain’t decided yet? What are you waiting for, the Canadian crows to fly south for the winter? Goddamnit Sam! How are we gonna butter up Tom Junior if we don’t even know when we’re meeting him?”

“Maybe I already buttered him up a little on the side.”

“Why you gotta do it on the side?”

“Because you don’t know him like I do. You can’t go talk to him like I can.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know him a little. You don’t.”

“What do you mean you know him? What are you, friends with Tom Junior Sam?”

“For God’s sake, no Ralph! We ain’t no friends. I just know him a little, that’s all. I’ve

been working on the farm a long time. You can’t help but talk with people.”

“I see. So what do you two love birds talk about?”

“Jesus Ralph, stop it! You’re acting like we’re in cahoots or something.”

“Well, are you?”

“No!!! I just told Tom Junior that he was a good little boy, and that we’d like to take him out for drinks. Told him we’d come up with a time later.”

“It’s getting later all the time.”

“Alright, I’ll go talk with him now.”

“Eight o’clock. He said he’d meet us Thursday night at eight o’clock.”

“Where?”

“Jude’s Tavern. Let’s get there a little early to plot strategy, say 7:30.”

“Alright, 7:30 then.”

“Well, you made it here old boy, right on time, 7:30.”

“I ain’t feeling so good about this Sam.”

“Why not?”

“It still bothers me that you didn’t set this up a little more beforehand. Why’d you have to wait so long to see when Tom Junior wanted to meet?”

“Don’t call him Tom Junior. He don’t like it.”

“Since when do you care what Tom Junior likes?”

“I don’t. I just mean don’t call him that when we meet. Could make our best laid plans go awry. Well here comes little ol’ Tom Junior, now. ‘Tom! How you doing ol’ boy?”’

“Right fine, I guess. Didn’t expect you and Ralph to take me out for drinks.”

“Why not, Tom? You and I been working here together for a long time. Ralph is my

colleague and my dear friend. You can trust the both of us.”

“Question is Sam, can we trust him?”

“Fair question. Can we trust you, Tom Junior?”

“Don’t call me Tom Junior Sam!”

“Alright, sorry Tom. Won’t happen again. Will it Ralph?”

“I didn’t call him Tom Junior. You did.”

“Yeah, you can trust me. I ain’t got nothin’ on ya.”

“Alright then. Get you a beer, Tom?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Ralph, how ’bout you go up to the bar there, and get us a few beers?”

"How ’bout you do it Sam."

“Alright, alright. It’s too fine a night and too many pretty girls to be wrangling. ’Hey hon, bring us a few beers over here, will ya?’ So, Tom. I've been working for your father a long time. You notice things. And I can’t help but notice that you bust your ass around here, and you don’t get nothing for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well Tom, seems to me when someone puts in a hard day’s work, they should get

something out it. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t get paid nothin’ for what you do on the farm. Do you?”

“No.”

“Don’t that make you a little mad son? Don’t that get you a little hot under the collar

sometimes?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Would me, too. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen your father so much as give you the time of day, much less pay you anything.”

“He don’t.”

“No, he don’t, do he? Man, them beers taste real good on a hot summer’s night. Real

good. Alright, so where were we?”

“Yeah Sam, where were we?”

“C’mon Ralph. I’m just trying to help Tom Junior here see things a little more clearly.”

“Goddamnit Sam! Don’t call me fucking Tom Junior! I don’t like it!”

“Yeah Sam, don’t call him fucking Tom Junior! He don’t like it!”

“Tom, you know I don’t think of you that way. I’m just trying to make a point.”

“Well, make it then.”

“Tom, I’ve been working on the farm for 28 years, and it’s plain as the ass on an

orangutan that your father keeps you under his thumb, every goddamn minute, of every goddamn day. He treats you like a child when you’re about to be a man. Ain’t that right? You’re just one whisker away from being a full-grown man, ain’t ya Tom?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“That’s right. Well, don’t you think maybe you should be man enough to do something

about your father?”

“Like what Sam? Shoot him in the back?”

“Hell, boy, shoot him in the front!”

“I ain’t shooting nothing! Jesus Christ Sam! You brought me here to ask me to kill my

father!?”

“No Tom, of course not. I ain’t asking you to kill your father. Man signs my checks.

Pays me at least.”

“Fuck you, Sam!”

“Alright, now hold on, hold on. Calm down. I ain’t talking nothin’ about shooting your father. I believe he’s leaving for vacation soon anyway. Going with your mama, bless her little heart. What’s that, in maybe a week or so from now?”

“Week and a half.”

“And you’ll be here running the farm pretty much on your own, wontcha Tom?”

“Yeah.”

“Won’t get paid nothing for it, will you?”

“No.”

“All that wasted potential. You could run the whole goddamn kit and caboodle yourself. There’s a lot of money on that farm Tom, especially the sheep. Beaucoup dollars.”

“What? You want me to give you a good deal on some sheep Sam?”

“No Tom, I ain’t lookin’ to buy your sheep. Why would I? Your father pays Ralph to steal ’em. Now you might not know this son, but there’s a long-standing feud between your family and the McCoys, going way far back.”

“There ain’t no McCoys around here no more!”

“Oh yes there are Tom. Not the original ones of course, but their flesh n’ blood. The

Hatfields up and gone a while back, but some of the McCoys are still around. I don’t think even your father knows that. But I do. I even sees one or two of them occasionally. And I just happened to be talking with one of them the other day. You see Tom, the reason your family even have them sheep is that your great grandfather stole them, at least their fore bearers, from the McCoys. The real McCoys. Of course that never sat right with them, and their progeny sure like to get ’em back. Not just for the money, though there’d be a lot of it, not to mention the lambchops, but to wave their middle finger in your daddy’s eye. It’s personal Tom. But it ain’t so easy stealin’ flocks of sheep in this day and age. There’re all sorts of cameras, electric wires, booby traps and the like, all over that farm, even some you don’t know about. ’Course your daddy pays off the law to make sure there ain’t no thieves getting in. Hell, they even arrest the wolves. Put little wolf handcuffs on ’em. You never see no wolves on the farm, do you Tom? Point being, only way the McCoys could get them sheep is if it were an inside job. You see what I’m getting at here boy?”

“There ain’t no way my pa would let them get away with it, McCoys or anyone else. My pa ain’t scared of nothin’. He’d hunt them down, shoot ’em, and hang ’em himself.”

“Not if he’s on vacation he wouldn’t. Couldn’t if he wanted to, could he Tom?”

“No. He couldn’t. But why should I want to do any of this anyway?”

“Them sheep worth a lot of money Tom. A lot. I’d make sure the McCoys gave you a cut. How much you want?”

“Jesus, I ain’t doing this!”

“Could be a couple hundred dollars Tom.”

“Couple hundred dollars!?”

“Yeah Tom, I’m telling you, them sheep are worth a lot of money! I’m in good with the

McCoys, and they know they can’t get ’em without you. I’d make sure they take care of you. Of course, that’s not the only reason you want to do this Tom.”

“Yeah, what’s the other?”

“Ah c’mon Tom, what do you think? We both know how much you resent your pa, and you should too, rightly so. Get some revenge. Now I know revenge is a dirty word Tom, and it don’t exactly capture what’s in your heart, though maybe it does, but you’d get some satisfaction out of it, probably a lot. A little grin, grin, grin, under your chinny, chinny, chin. You’d carry that secret with you for the rest of your life. You could dangle your middle finger at your pa any time you want, in your mind of course, but that’s where all our feelings are.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t gonna believe the McCoys did it.”

“Be funny if he did though. What’s he gonna do? Round up a posse to chase down the

McCoys? He’d be laughed outta town.”

“No, c’mon Sam, he’d know I was in on it. And I would be.”

“Yeah, I know Tom. That’s why we’re here.”

“My pa be spittin’ bullets! He’d kill me for it! I ain’t lying.”

“Oh, c’mon Tom…”

“He would Sam! You’ve never seen him in a fury. You’ve never seen him when he drinks. When my pa drinks, he could scare the coil of a rattlesnake’s ass. He’d fly off the handle and beat me with the pan, right there on the stove. He’d burn me too before he’d kill me. Push my hand to the gridle, and throw boiling water in my face, just to hear me squeal like a pig. You don’t know him like I do Sam. He already tried to kill me once, I mean for real. If my ma weren’t there, he’d a done it too. Hell, he’d kill her if he could.”

“Oh Tom, Tom, Tom. You really believe your father would think you were in on it? That you helped plan it? Little Tom Junior? Your father thinks you’re a stone butt idiot and you know it, more than I do. He ain’t gonna suspect you Tom, c’mon.”

“I don’t care what he thinks of my brains, he’d have to know I was in on it.”

“Alright Tom, how about this? Let’s say we roughed you up a little. Not real hard of

course, just enough to make it look like you tried.”

“Fighting off the McCoys?”

“Jesus Tom, there ain’t no McCoys around here no more!”

“Why’d you say there were Sam?”

“Yeah, why’d you say there were Sam?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been in the business a long time, and I know plenty of folks

that be real happy to have them sheep. Pay good money for ’em.”

“I ain’t doing this shit Sam!”

“What, you afraid boy? Man can take a punch.”

“It ain’t that Sam.”

“Well what then?”

“It ain’t gonna work! It just plain out ain’t gonna work!”

“You don’t think so, huh Tom? Maybe you’re right. I don’t think you’re right, but

maybe.”

“I ain’t talking about this no more Sam! I ain’t doing it, and that’s it!”

“I see. Well then let me ask you something, Tom.”

“Yeah?”

“None of this conversation ever happened, did it?”

“Nah.”

“Ain’t gonna tell your pa nothin’ about it, right?”

“No Sam, of course not.”

“Sure about that Tom?”

“Yeah Sam, I’m sure about it. What are you, threatening me now?”

“No Tom, I can’t believe you’d ask me that. Now I know we ain’t confidants. As your

father’s employee, wouldn’t make no sense that we were. But we’ve never had a squabble. Even had a few laughs now and again. I even think of you as a friend sometimes. You don’t ever think about me that way? Not even just a little?”

“Yeah, I do Sam. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright son. I know you’re a man, and you know you’re a man. I think you’re

making a big mistake Tom, really do. But you gotta make your own way in life. Your own decisions, your own actions, all of it. I don’t know what more to say. Let’s shake like men. Feels good to be a man, don’t it Tom?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“You’re a good boy Tom. Get you another beer? My treat of course.”

“Nah, I best be going.”

“Alright then. Not a word.”

“Not a word Sam. I give you mine.”

“That’s good. Now go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

“You too Sam. You too Ralph. Good to see you outside the job.”

“Goddamnit Sam! What the fuck! How’d you let him get away with that! He done up and left! He ain’t gonna do it!”

“Yeah, I know Ralph. I was sitting at the same table as you.”

“You said you were sure as shit he’d go along with the plan!”

“I don’t think I put it quite that way, but yeah, I did say something like that.”

“You traitor!”

“Traitor!? You callin’ me a traitor! I outta knock your ass to the floor, right here in public! I tried every goddamn thing I could think of to get Tom Junior to do it! Didn’t I? You got better ideas, you should have said so.”

“You shouldn’t have said nothing about beatin’ him up. I think that’s why he didn’t do it.”

“Nah, that ain’t why.”

“Why then?”

“I overestimated Tom Junior. I gave him too much credit.”

“For what?”

“For his determination to get out from under his daddy’s thumb. But he couldn’t do it. I guess Tom Junior just ain’t a man.”

“You knew it wasn’t gonna work, didn’t you? The whole time.”

“I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected it might not. It’s a tall order for a boy to cross his father, especially a father like Tom Junior’s. I knew it’d be hard to win him over.”

“Did you even want to win him over?”

“I wanted you to think I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you to think I had the guts to quit the job. So I gave it a try, and I left it up to fate.”

“Fate? You believe in fate?”

“Sure want to.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’m absolved.”

“Of what?”

“Of failure. If I try and fail, I’m not chagrined. If I don’t try, I’m not ashamed. Ain’t no

hangdog either way. It’s all in the hands of fate. Que sera, sera.”

“So fate gives you an excuse.”

“It gives me a reason not to care.”

“What are you so afraid of Sam? I don’t understand.”

“I’m afraid of everything Ralph. I’m afraid of life. You said it yourself. You told me I wanna be your father, so I can live my life through you. And you’re right. I do wanna be your father. But I don’t wanna be the father that raised me. That father was a cruel man. He hated himself, and he hated me for knowing it. You said I want you to succeed, so I can be proud you’re my son. My father didn’t want me to succeed because I was his son. He didn’t want to live his life through me; he wanted to stop me from livin’ mine. He wanted me to fail, not to excuse his own failings, but to take me down with him. And I’m afraid I’m trying to take you down with me Ralph. That’s the thing I’m most afraid of. I’m terrified at the thought of it. But I won’t do it. I’d burn in hell before I’d let that happen. Thank God for that. ’Least the good Lord got something right. He got another thing right too: He gave you the wherewithal, so that neither me nor anyone else could take you down, including the Almighty Himself. You’re not bound by fate Ralph. You’re alive. You’re truly alive.

My father was afraid that God would send him to hell. He wished he was younger

because he was afraid to die. I wish I was older because I’m afraid to live. He tried to cheat death. I try to cheat life. I was never gonna quit the job Ralph. I’d rather stay with what I know, even if it don’t ask much of me, because it don’t ask much of me. That way, I can accept my lot in life and never fall short of reaching the stars. I’m lost in a netherworld of my own creation, more dead than alive, and I ain’t got neither the guts nor the brains to get out. That’s how I am. That’s how I’ll always be.”

“Stop it, Sam! You are alive! More than me sometimes. You got more guts and more

brains than you know. I’ve seen ’em both. I’ve seen you take chances I would never take and wouldn’t have even thought to take. Hell, the way you masquerade them sheep sometimes confounds me. Yeah, you lose a few more than you win, but you take the chance, and the pay cut that comes with it. You’d get a lot more out of life Sam if you thought you deserved it. You’re not scared of losing Sam; you’re scared of winning. Thing you’re most afraid of in life is gettin’ your cake and eatin’ it too. You don’t try gettin’ it, ’cause you wouldn’t eat it. You wouldn’t eat it, so you don’t try gettin’ it.

You can’t think like that Sam, especially about Deborah. She’s a damn fine woman, and

more prettier than not. Dumbest thing ever come out of your mouth, ’least the dumbest thing I ever heard come out of it, is that you don’t deserve her. You do Sam. You deserve her as much as anyone deserves anything.”

“Deborah is a wise woman Ralph. Wise beyond her years. Don’t know anyone wiser.”

“Then she ain’t no dumbass for liking you.”

“Hello, my sweet Petunia. You’re looking pretty tonight.”

“Why do you always call me that Sam?”

“Pretty?”

“A petunia. Why a petunia?”

“It’s a pretty flower.”

“Lots of pretty flowers.”

“I just like petunias in particular.”

“You know, you always say I look good. Good for my age, you mean?”

“No, just good. I think you’re beautiful Deborah.”

“How old do you think I am Sam?”

“I don’t know. You never told me.”

“You never told me how old you are neither.”

“You never asked me. You always said it don’t matter, and it don’t.”

“Just curious though: How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know Deborah, c’mon.”

“How old do you think I am Sam?”

“I don’t know! Why are we even talking about this!?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“From all appearances, I’m dating a younger man. Sort of unusual. Most men want to be with a younger woman. Most of them are. They don’t want to be with a woman their age, sure not one that’s older. People tell me I’m blessed, that I look good for my age, but that’s not the same as looking good. I’m 52 years old Sam. You can’t be more than 50, probably younger. You really want to be with someone my age? You gonna want to be with me when I’m 55? 60? You still gonna think I’m looking good then? You still gonna call me your sweet Petunia?”

“Of course I will.”

“I’m not so sure. I haven’t had much lot of luck in my life, especially with men. Why

should I be gettin’ lucky now?”

“I just look young Deborah. People always say I look younger than I am, same as you.”

“How old are you Sam?”

“About your age.”

“Little younger though, right?”

“It don’t matter. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Please!”

“Alright Sam.”

“Let me ask you something Deborah. First time we met at the restaurant, you said your husband hung himself. Then, when we got together that night, you told me you hated him so much, you could have shot him.”

“That’s right.”

“And then I asked you, if by ‘could have,’ you meant ‘would like to have’ or ’might

have.’ You remember what your answer was? You said it could have gone either way.”

“I did say that. You’re right. You thought it was funny.”

'“I did, and I still do. But we've been dating for almost a year now, and you've never said another word about your husband. You won’t ever talk about what happened between the two of you. Why?”

“It was awful Sam. The most awful thing you can imagine. I feel bad for not talking

about it with you, I really do. And I will someday, I promise. I just can’t right now.”

“Can’t because it’s too difficult for you, or can’t because something bad might happen if you did?”

“What are you trying to get at here Sam?”

“Did you kill your husband Deborah?”

“Nah, I didn't kill him. I didn't need to. He was killing himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“He couldn’t live life. I don’t think he ever knew what it was like to be alive. And it made him feel dead, dead and angry. He was a violent man.”

“Did he beat you?”

“Sure he did. ’Till I was black and blue. ’Till I couldn’t walk, or even sit down.”

“You feel you had cause to kill him?”

“Yeah, I do, but I didn’t. But he did something worse than beating me Sam.”

“What?”

“He lied to me. All the time. Up and down. Everyday. Just to do it. Even when there was no reason for it. He knew I hated it, so he did it more, and more, and more. But he was a sly one. I couldn’t always tell for sure if he was lying, and he knew it. He played with it. Sometimes he’d tell the truth, and sometimes he’d lie, ’till I never knew what was for real. And I’d cry. I’d cry so hard! And he’d say, ‘What’s wrong with you, Debbie?,’ and he’d beat me some more. Two hours later, he said he didn’t remember doing it. Next day, he swore he never done it.”

“He must have known he done it.”

“Sure he did. Maybe he tried not to, I don’t know, but it don’t matter either way.”

“Geez, Deborah. I don’t know what to say. I shouldn’t have asked you about it. I’m

sorry.”

“You didn’t do nothing wrong Sam. You didn’t know.”

“Oh honey, come here. I’d do anything to make that pain go away.”

“I know you would Sam. But I can’t let you see me when I think about him.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I ain’t in my right mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I imagine what I’d do to him if I could.”

“Like you’re in a dream?”

“No. It ain’t like a dream. It’s a fantasy. A horrible fantasy.”

“You can tell me Deborah.”

“Oh Sam!”

“It’s OK, Deborah. Really. You can tell me. You tell me anything. Anything in the

world.”

“I play it over and over in my head.”

“What?”

“I walk in that garage, and I slip the noose around his neck. Then I tighten it, until his

eyes almost bust out. But not enough to kill him. Not yet. I make sure of that. I torture him. I torture his mind. I laugh at him wiggling in that noose. I say, ‘Aw honey, what’s wrong? Why you squirming like that? Here, let me ease that a little for you. That’s better, isn’t it love? Why would anyone want to hurt you? Why on earth would anyone want to hurt you? It ain’t right. You would never hurt me. I know you wouldn’t, honey. I know how much you love me. Here, let me tighten that up a little more for you. Wouldn’t want to see you fall down and cry. I only want to make you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, is to make you happy.’

Then, I raise a shot gun, I take a step back, look him square in the eye, and I blow his fucking brains out all over the garage, blood everywhere. Then I just stand there, not laughing no more, not crying, not trembling, not happy, not sad, not even satisfied with what I done. I just look at him hanging there, for hours if I got the time. Bastard. Ain’t no way I can let you see that Sam. I feel evil when it happens. I am evil when it happens. More evil than Lucifer himself. More evil than anyone that’s ever been.”

“You’re not evil Deborah. You could never be evil. You’re the kindest, most loving

woman I’ve ever known. God knows you are. The Father knows. What I don’t understand is why The Father would hurt you like that, his own creation. Why would He do that to you? Why would He sit there on his throne and let that happen? Why would He do it to any of his children?”

“Sam?”

“What honey?”

“Have you really worked on the farm for 28 years?”

“I have Deborah. Yes, I have.”

“What did you do before that?”

“You mean for work?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh Geez, it’s been a long time. I’ve done a lot of jobs…”

“Which one maybe you done the most?”

“I worked in a tavern for a couple years.”

“What did you do?”

“First, I worked in the kitchen, washing dishes mainly. Then, I was a bar back, and

eventually, bar tender.”

“Did you like being a bar tender Sam?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s interesting. You get to understand people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, people who sit at the bar for a while, especially the regulars, and especially

men, they tell you a lot, a lot about themselves, even their whole life stories sometimes. Of course you want to get them liquored up, so you talk to them, you listen to them. You figure out what they want to hear, what makes them happy, what makes them sad, what they don’t want to know about themselves. Especially that, what they don’t want to know about themselves. So you help them. You help them pull the wool over their eyes.”

“Where did you work?”

“Like I said, first in the kitchen and then at the bar.”

“No, I mean what town?”

“Geez, Deborah, it’s been so long. I don’t remember... Oh, you know where it was?

Milwaukee! In Milwaukee! Ain’t that funny? What a coincidence.”

“You told me you never been to Milwaukee Sam.”

“No…”

“Yeah you did Sam, first time we met at the restaurant. You asked me where I was from. I said Milwaukee, and you said you’d never been there.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Sam? How old are you? Really? Please, don’t lie to me Sam. I don’t care how old you

are, I just want to know. Please Sam. Sam? Sam!? Sam! What’s wrong!?”

“I don’t know. I can’t breathe right.”

“Is your chest painin’?”

“Yeah. It hurts bad. It feels all tight, like someone’s squeezing it.”

“Oh God, Sam! I think you’re having a heart attack. Sit down. Try to calm your body. I’ll

call an ambulance.”

“I don’t wanna die! Jesus, don’t let me die! I ain’t ready yet!”

“Thank God you got here fast. Please don’t let him die!”

“We'll get him to the hospital as fast as we can ma’am, I promise. Do you have his

wallet? I’m sorry to ask you ma’am, but they’re going to want his health insurance card at the hospital.”

“OK; I’ll bring it there with me.”

“Yes ma’am. Can I help you?”

“Yes. Hi. They brought my friend here to the emergency room. I think he had a heart

attack.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sam. Sam Widdershins. Is he alright?”

“I don’t know ma’am. Do you have his health insurance card?”

“Yes, here you go. Can I see him?”

“No, I’m afraid you can’t ma’am, not now. There’s a waiting room right over there.

Someone will come out and talk with you as soon as they can.”

“OK. I understand.”

“Deborah?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m Deborah.”

“Hi, I’m Dr. Blanc. Are you Mr. Widdershins’ wife?”

“I’m his friend. Is he OK?”

“He’s going be OK, ma’am. We want to keep him here a little while longer, but he’s

going be OK. How old is Mr. Widdershins?”

“I’m not sure. Let me find his driver’s license. It says he’s 48.”

“That’s pretty young to be having a heart attack. He needs to take better care of himself.”

“Yeah, he does. Can I go see him now?”

“Yes, you can. He’ll be discharged in a couple hours, but yes, you can go see him.”

“Sam! You’re alright! They say you’ll be alright!”

“Yeah, they say I will.”

“You will honey. You really gave me a scare. The doctor said you’re young to be having a heart attack.”

“He told you how old I am?”

“No, it’s on your driver’s license Sam.”

“I lied to you Deborah. I’ve lied to you a lot. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“Why didn’t you want me to know how old you are Sam?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I might leave you, just like you were saying

tonight. But I would never leave you Deborah. Never in my life. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never lie to you again. I swear I won’t!”

“Ain’t no hanging offense Sam.”

“Deborah?”

“Yes?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“What Sam?”

“It’s important.”

“OK.”

“It’s real important.”

“What is it Sam?”

“Will you marry me Deborah?”

“Oh my God Sam! Are you serious!? You really asking? Nah, you’re kidding, right?”

“I’d be on bended knee if I could.”

“Nahhhh… For real? Are you proposing to me for real?”

“I am Deborah. Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes Deborah, for real. Really.”

“Well then I accept.”

“Really?”

“Yeah Sam, really.”

“I love you Deborah. I love you with all my heart.”

“I love you too Sam. But Sam…”

“What Deborah?”

“You better be damn sure you want this. You’ll be marrying an older woman, four years your senior. I ain’t no lambkin.”

“Deborah, look I—”

“You want to spend the rest of your life growing old with me? You sure? ’Cause if you’re gonna be married to me, that’s what it means. Till death do us part. Ain’t no middle ground.”

“Till death do us part.”

“You have to promise me something Sam.”

“I’ll be true to you Deborah. I’ll never cheat on you. I swear!”

“Yeah, I know that. I’d shoot you first. It’s something else.”

“Anything in the world Mrs. Widdershins.”

“I’m serious Sam.”

“OK…”

“You have to start taking care of yourself. No more heart attacks. I mean it Sam. I already had one husband kill himself, and I thank Jesus every day that he did, but if I’m gonna marry you, then I expect you to stay on this earth for as long as the good Lord will accommodate. No more eatin’ beef sandwiches at the diner. Damn things ’ll kill ya.”

“I will Deborah, I promise. I have a reason to now.”

“Oh Sam, I can’t believe it! We’re really gonna get married!!”

“Sam? Deborah? It’s Ralph. Can I come in?”

“Ralph! Hey Ralph!”

“Jesus, I could hear the two of you half a mile down the hall! Why y’all laughing? What’s going on? For God’s sake Sam, you're animated as the Merrie Melodies! From what Deborah said I thought you were dying!”

“Not no more, I ain’t. I’m alive Ralph. I’m truly alive.”

“Mornin’ Ralph.”

“Mornin’ Sam. You’re recovering good Sam. I’m glad you took the time off work.”

“Yeah, I needed to...”

“Guess what Sam? I'm getting my commercial license! I’m really gonna get it! Then I

can start getting hired to fly. Maybe another year, I’ll be licensed to fly a real airliner, one of the big ones. They’re saying that pretty soon there’ll be jet airliners flying people everywhere, all over the world! I’m gonna be the captain of them airliners someday, you’ll see!”

“I bet you will Ralph. I know you will. God knows you put a mind to it, just like everything you do. You always have.”

“Thanks Sam.”

“I’m gonna miss you Ralph. A lot.”

“I’m gonna miss you too Sam. Don’t worry, I’ll come around, maybe more than you

want. You’ll probably get sick of me.”

“I could never get sick of you Ralph. I love you like a son. You’ll come to the wedding,

right?”

“Of course I will Sam. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if I have to fly halfway around it to get there.”

“You know where we’re thinking of going for our honeymoon?”

“Letcher county?”

"Paris."

“Nahhh…”

“Yeah. Deborah’s always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe I’ll fly you there. Who knows? Food’s supposed to be good. I hear they do wonderful things with lamb.”

“I could never eat one of them Ralph. They’re the kindliest of God’s creatures.”

“I’m glad you’re quittin’ the job Sam. Not with your full pension, I know, but with a

lot of it. It’s not a bad deal.”

“Yeah, I guess not. You know what Ralph? They gave me a gold watch. How you like

that? I thought it was pretty decent of them at first, especially since I’m not finishing out my career at the farm. But you know what? It wasn’t made of gold. It was a cheap piece of crap. I saw one at the dime store just like it for two bucks. Damn thing broke in a couple weeks. You believe that?”

“You don’t need a gold watch to know how to live Sam.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

“You got a lot of good years left in you Sam. You’re still young.”

“Yeah, I am, and I’m learning to be happy about it… You remember what I told you

about Einstein Ralph?”

“Sort of. He said time isn’t real, right?”

“Not exactly. He said time is relative.”

“To what?”

“To everything.”

“I'm glad you got Deborah to care for you Sam. She's a lovely woman, and more prettier than not.”

“Yes she is. And I love her. I love her so much. My sweet Petunia.”