didn’t even have enough to pay for a movie, much less dinner! And you lied!”
“Excuse me, it’s your birthday? It’s my birthday too!”
“You stay out of this, Andrew, or whatever the fuck your name is.”
“Don’t be vulgar, Bruce. He has an absolutely perfect right to wish me a happy birthday.”
“He’s not wishing you a happy birthday, he’s butting into my life.”
“Allow me to wish you a very happy birthday, Emily.”
“And to you, Andrew, the very same.”
“Plus he’s an asshole!”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
WOULD YOU LIKE ANOTHER BALANCE CHECK?
BRUCE
EMILY
ANDREW
ANN
“I still don’t understand who Ann is.”
“My girlfriend. Sort of. She was supposed to meet me at the movie but she stood me up for the last time.”
“How terrible! On your birthday! Andrew, I know exactly how you feel.”
“As a matter of fact, you’re both a couple of assholes!”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
EMILY AND ANDREW,
PLEASE ALLOW ME TO TREAT YOU
TO A BIRTHDAY DINNER AND A FILM
“A hundred dollars!”
“It says it’s treating us. Take it, Emily.”
“You take it, Andrew; I think the man should handle the money. And you can call me Em.”
“I can’t fucking believe this!”
“We’d better hurry. Excuse me, Bruce, old pal, do you have the time?”
“It’s 6:42. Asshole.”
“If we run we can catch the 6:45. Then, how about Sneeky Pete’s?”
“I love Tex-Mex!”
PLEASE REMOVE YOUR CARD
DON’T FORGET TO TRY
THE BLACKENED FAJITAS
“You’re all three assholes! I can’t fucking believe this. She left with him!”
WELCOME TO CASH-IN-A-FLASH
1324 LOCATIONS
TO SERVE YOU CITYWIDE
PLEASE DON’T KICK THE MACHINE
“Go to Hell!”
PLEASE INSERT YOUR CASH-IN-A-FLASH CARD
“Fuck you.”
GO AHEAD, BRUCE
WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE?
THANK YOU
IT WASN’T ‘EATEN’ AFTER ALL, WAS IT?
“You know it wasn’t. Asshole.”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
WOULD YOU LIKE—
SYMPATHY
REVENGE
WEATHER
ANN
“Excuse me.”
“Jesus, lady, quit banging on the door. I know it’s raining. Tough shit. I’m not going to let you in. This is a cash machine, not a homeless shelter. You’re supposed to have a card or something. What?”
“I said, shut up and press Ann .”
The Coon Suit
I’ M NOT MUCH OF A HUNTER and I don’t care for dogs. I was driving out Taylorsville Road in Oldham County one Sunday, when I saw this bunch of pickups down in a hollow by a pond. My own old yellow and white ’77 Ford half-ton was bought from a coon hunter, and it could have been the truck as much as me that slowed down to take a look. Men were standing around the pickups, most of which had dog boxes in the beds. I saw a Xeroxed sign stapled to a telephone pole, and realized I had been seeing the same sign for a couple of miles along the road.
COON RUN, SUNDAY, CARPENTERS LAKE.
If this was Carpenters Lake, it was not much more than a pond. I could hear dogs barking. I pulled over to watch.
There was a cable running across the water. It ran from a pole where the trucks were parked into the trees on the other side of the pond. Hanging under it, like a cable car, was a wire cage. While I watched, two men took six or eight hounds out of the back of a half-ton Ford and down to the bank. The dogs were going wild and I could see why.
There was a coon in the cage. From where I was parked, up on the road, it was just a little black shape. It looked like a skunk or a big house cat. It was probably just my imagination, but I thought I could see the black eyes, panicky under the white mask, and the hand-like feet plucking at the wire mesh.
A rope ran from the cage, through a pulley on a tree at the far end of the cable and back. A man pulled at the rope and the cage started across the cable, only three or four feet off the water. The men on the bank let the dogs go and they threw themselves in the pond. They were barking louder than ever, swimming under the cage as it was pulled in long slow
“Excuse me, it’s your birthday? It’s my birthday too!”
“You stay out of this, Andrew, or whatever the fuck your name is.”
“Don’t be vulgar, Bruce. He has an absolutely perfect right to wish me a happy birthday.”
“He’s not wishing you a happy birthday, he’s butting into my life.”
“Allow me to wish you a very happy birthday, Emily.”
“And to you, Andrew, the very same.”
“Plus he’s an asshole!”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
WOULD YOU LIKE ANOTHER BALANCE CHECK?
BRUCE
EMILY
ANDREW
ANN
“I still don’t understand who Ann is.”
“My girlfriend. Sort of. She was supposed to meet me at the movie but she stood me up for the last time.”
“How terrible! On your birthday! Andrew, I know exactly how you feel.”
“As a matter of fact, you’re both a couple of assholes!”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
EMILY AND ANDREW,
PLEASE ALLOW ME TO TREAT YOU
TO A BIRTHDAY DINNER AND A FILM
“A hundred dollars!”
“It says it’s treating us. Take it, Emily.”
“You take it, Andrew; I think the man should handle the money. And you can call me Em.”
“I can’t fucking believe this!”
“We’d better hurry. Excuse me, Bruce, old pal, do you have the time?”
“It’s 6:42. Asshole.”
“If we run we can catch the 6:45. Then, how about Sneeky Pete’s?”
“I love Tex-Mex!”
PLEASE REMOVE YOUR CARD
DON’T FORGET TO TRY
THE BLACKENED FAJITAS
“You’re all three assholes! I can’t fucking believe this. She left with him!”
WELCOME TO CASH-IN-A-FLASH
1324 LOCATIONS
TO SERVE YOU CITYWIDE
PLEASE DON’T KICK THE MACHINE
“Go to Hell!”
PLEASE INSERT YOUR CASH-IN-A-FLASH CARD
“Fuck you.”
GO AHEAD, BRUCE
WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE?
THANK YOU
IT WASN’T ‘EATEN’ AFTER ALL, WAS IT?
“You know it wasn’t. Asshole.”
NO NAME CALLING PLEASE
WOULD YOU LIKE—
SYMPATHY
REVENGE
WEATHER
ANN
“Excuse me.”
“Jesus, lady, quit banging on the door. I know it’s raining. Tough shit. I’m not going to let you in. This is a cash machine, not a homeless shelter. You’re supposed to have a card or something. What?”
“I said, shut up and press Ann .”
The Coon Suit
I’ M NOT MUCH OF A HUNTER and I don’t care for dogs. I was driving out Taylorsville Road in Oldham County one Sunday, when I saw this bunch of pickups down in a hollow by a pond. My own old yellow and white ’77 Ford half-ton was bought from a coon hunter, and it could have been the truck as much as me that slowed down to take a look. Men were standing around the pickups, most of which had dog boxes in the beds. I saw a Xeroxed sign stapled to a telephone pole, and realized I had been seeing the same sign for a couple of miles along the road.
COON RUN, SUNDAY, CARPENTERS LAKE.
If this was Carpenters Lake, it was not much more than a pond. I could hear dogs barking. I pulled over to watch.
There was a cable running across the water. It ran from a pole where the trucks were parked into the trees on the other side of the pond. Hanging under it, like a cable car, was a wire cage. While I watched, two men took six or eight hounds out of the back of a half-ton Ford and down to the bank. The dogs were going wild and I could see why.
There was a coon in the cage. From where I was parked, up on the road, it was just a little black shape. It looked like a skunk or a big house cat. It was probably just my imagination, but I thought I could see the black eyes, panicky under the white mask, and the hand-like feet plucking at the wire mesh.
A rope ran from the cage, through a pulley on a tree at the far end of the cable and back. A man pulled at the rope and the cage started across the cable, only three or four feet off the water. The men on the bank let the dogs go and they threw themselves in the pond. They were barking louder than ever, swimming under the cage as it was pulled in long slow
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