it seldom works the way we think it

works.

in fact, it never

does.

liar, liar, pants on fire!

bunch of guys sitting there drinking and Louie

started in, said he was in this bedroom

working out when the woman under him said,

“It’s my husband! I hear his key in the front

door!”

Louie jumped up, there was only one way

out, through the bathroom window, it was

two floors up but he went for it anyhow,

leaving his pants, his shirt, shoes, everything there,

he climbed out the window, ass-naked, and

let himself down by the drainpipe.

three quarters of the way down he fell to the

ground, got up with a sprained and twisted

ankle and hobbled to his car

which was parked in back and drove off

with a roar, away into the night totally

naked but still alive!

the guys laughed, “Man, Louie, you got

away with it!”

the way I saw it, Louie couldn’t have

started his car without his

pants with the keys in them.

I knew that I could expose him, but

what was the good?

another fellow with a bullshit

story while I was thinking up one of my

own.

the inspection

it was a small dusty town in east Texas

full of wild turkeys.

I had just married the

daughter

and they had come to her

house to see who I

was.

all the relatives and the

devil knows

who else.

now it was over

and I was sitting on the

edge of the bed

sucking on a beer

bottle

and my wife stood

there.

“they liked you,”

she said.

“yeah?”

“they expected some city

boy, not

you.”

“ah?”

“you drank more

whiskey than any of

them, even Uncle

Paul, and you

didn’t even

blink.”

”it was good

whiskey.”

“you’re accepted,” said my

wife. “they won’t

bother us.”

“are they supposed

to?”

“they ran off my

last one…”

“your last one?

wait a minute

here…”

“we were engaged.”

“anybody I know?”

she laughed.

“also, when they used

the word ‘nigger’ you

didn’t protest.”

“I thought they were

talking to me.

hell, baby, I’m a

nigger.”

I walked to the

kitchen and got

another beer.

all the whiskey

was gone.

when I got back

she was standing

there

smiling.

“but you know,”

she said, “what

made the

biggest hit?”

“no, tell me…”

“it was when you walked

out wearing those filthy

blue jeans!”

“yeah?”

“oh, yes!

they won’t chase you off

now!”

I had passed

muster.

the parade could

begin.

somewhere in Texas

sitting in a big ranch house with a grandmother

and a grandfather (not mine) and the grandmother

tells me she has “terrible migraines” and doesn’t

know what to do.

I know she has one then and the reason is

that I am sitting in her house.

the grandfather asks me if I want a drink and I tell

him yes and he pours me a whiskey and

water