“Well, looky here, guys,” said Doc. “ It’s the one and only Manure Man!”
“Thank you kindly, dear friends and fans,” Dewey said, flipping his cup to the upright and fillable position. “I’ll always remember the little people, you know ... even when the film of my life makes Rain Man take a back seat.”
“So you haven’t told her yet?” Dud asked.
“Told her what?” Dewey asked, with a smirk.
“That you aren’t really nuts.”
“Jury’s still out on that one, Dud,” Doc said.
“Well, hauling fertilizer for a living hasn’t entered the conversation yet,” Dewey said, “if that’s what you mean. Some things are better left unsaid while we’re doing all this research. Did you know that I’m an anomaly?”
We stared at him.
“Well, that’s what she said. And … she also said I was an attractive man.”
“That settles it,” Steve said. “She’s the one who’s crazy!”
“I have a question … Dewey, did you … well, you know how you’re sometimes a bit … accident prone? Did you make it through dinner without any wrecks?”
“Sure did,” he said, smiling. “Made it almost to the truck, too”
“Well, I kinda stepped on her foot. It was an accident, of course.”
Dewey recalled the pain on her face by the soft, romantic light of the parking lot light poles, and how her grimace set off those precious, perfect cheekbones.
“That was the only wreck all evening, though. I swear. I was really careful.”
There was a certain fatalism in all this. If Emily Stickles, graduate student in psychology and county watchdog, was going to pursue Dewey as a friend or just a thesis subject, she’d have to get used to sore feet.
Dewey smiled. “I got to help her to the truck.”
Brought to you by Slim’s new book and great stocking stuffer “ A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right.” Learn more at http:// www.nmsantos.com/Slim/Slim.html.