Laid Bare: Essays and Observations Judson, Tom (books successful people read .TXT) đ
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âYou ainât lyinâ âbout that! And then you let out that low whistle like you do and said we oughta go over there and see that sweet old thing.â
âSo, Burt and me goes over to the car and I see it has New York plates on it.â
âThat was our first clue.â
âWell, sir, thereâs this feller sittinâ in the driverâs seat lookinâ through a whaddayacallit, a knapsackâŠâ
âLookinâ hard for somethinââŠâ
âAnd so I says to him, âThatâs quite a sweet car youâre drivinâ there, mister. Thatâs a â63, ainât it?â and he looks up at us and says, âActually, itâs a â61. You can tell by the turn signals in the grille.â Kinda snooty, if you want my opinion.â
âHe said that like he was used to answerinâ that question, somehow. Said he was drivinâ all the way to California. Got all this way without any kind of car trouble.â
âBurt and me started askinâ him about his car. That fool New Yorker didnât even know what kinda engine was in it. You thought that was odd, didnât you, Burt?â
âI think he mighta been one of them âfunny fellasâ, yâknow? You think so, Stewy?â
âAll I know is he was bent on finding something and he was looking everywhere. We followed him around the back of his car when he went lookinâ in the trunk and, well, thatâs when we saw âem. Sittinâ right on top there like he was, well, like he was proud to show âem off or somethinâ. Disgusting, if you ask me.â
âYou ainât lyinâ about that! A bag full of drugs.â
âBig olâ bag full of drugs. Huh? No, sir, I couldnât tell you what kind, but I guess I know drugs when I see âem.â
âSittinâ right there on top of his suitcase. Pills like you ainât never seen. Buncha different colors and everythinâ.
âDamn liberal New Yorkers think they can just come out here and push their drugs. Yeah, well, when that damn liberal New Yorker said somethinâ about having to call his sisterâŠâ
âBet that damn liberal donât even have no sisterâŠâ
ââŠwell, thatâs when Burt and me called the Highway Patrol. Yessiree, just called right on over there to Guymon and reported that damn Jew druggie.â
âStewyâs a good American that way.â
âBob Youngâs boy picked him up later on. Woulda got clean away if I hadnât called it in.â
âYup, a good American.â
âNope, never did hear what happened to him. Yeah, well, Burt and me gotta get goinâ. Thereâs some kind of meeting down at the V.F.W. we gotta get to.â
âYou ainât lyinâ âbout that, Stewy. No sir.â
Bud Grimsby, greeter:
âhello welcome to Wal-Mart do you need a cartâ
Meghan OâFlynn-Steinman, attorney (non-practicing):
âWell, yeah, I did think it was odd when I spotted him in that field. Especially in the Oklahoma panhandle. Although, after this trip Iâm redefining my standard for âoddâ. Leonard--Leonard Steinman, my husbandâthought it would be this great idea for the whole family to drive cross-country to visit his mother. âCross-country?â You do that on skis, I said, not in a minivan with three kids and a dog! Sure, he goes into the city to the firm every day in his nice, cushy Lexus and thinks this is some kind of a treat or something. Well, letâs just say Leonard may be redefining âtreatâ after this trip. I mean, up to St. Louis you could at least eat half-way decently, but just try to find something on the menus here thatâs not fried or smothered in cheese. They even have fried cheese! And, can someone please explain to me when marshmallows became a salad ingredient? We ate at some dump where the hostess had, like, green teeth and this hideous bouffant. Donât even get me started about the clothes. Jesus God! Here it was Motherâs day and the kids wanted to get me something. âThereâs Wal-Martâ, they screamed. âAnd hereâs the Nieman-Marcus catalogâ, I said and threw it into the back seat. âCircle something and give it back to your father.â Yeah, so, weâre driving on this boring, flat road through this boring, flat state on this boring, hot day in this smelly car on the way to California to see Letty Steinman (absolutely my most favorite person in the entire frigging world) and Seanâthe oldestâsays, âWhatâs that guy doing?â âWhat guy? Thereâs no guy, Sean.â And, then all the kids start screaming like theyâre on fire or something (which, let me tell you, is a distinct possibility at this point if theyâre not careful) and pointing into the field. Well, thereâs this guy walking around some kind of junkyard. But, itâs not cars in the junkyard, itâs, uh, trailers or something. Yâknow, like in a trailer park. Old, rusty things. Crap, if you ask me. But, heâs taking pictures of all this stuff, and his carâwhich looks like a piece of junk itself--is parked by the side of the road. It all seemed damned suspicious to me. âMaybe we should tell somebody,â Leonard says. Very calmly I said, âLeonard, what does the fuel gauge say?⊠Thatâs right, full. Now, let me make myself clear--youâre not taking your goddam foot off that goddam gas pedal until we cross the state line and get out of thisfucking state!â Yes, Sean, Mommy said the f-word. Just deal with it. God dammit, would you all stop screaming! Oh, my god, I need another⊠Sean, hand me my purse. Now!â
Mike Young, Oklahoma Highway Patrol:
âI got word from dispatch at approximately 1:20 PM that a white male, apparently early thirties, was suspected of transporting drugs in his vehicle. Suspect was headed west on Route 64 and was driving a black 1961 Ford Falcon, New York tags. Apparently the call came in to headquarters from old Stewy
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