That cracked the truckers up too.

Hogg didn’t give the silverware a chance.

Just went right in, hands first, stuffing food into his mouth, till he was pork chop grease to the eyes. The waitress came by with the milk and the coffee, and scowled like she was in pain.

“Here you go, boy. Earn your keep.” Hogg stuck his hand across the table, bits of meat, gravy, ketchup, and beans all over his fingers. I leaned forward, took it by the wrist, and began to lick. He shoved his fingers into my throat, so that once I gagged. He laughed. “Shit, I swear that gives me a hard-on, boy. I must be some sort of freak.”

While I drank my milk—it was hard to hold the glass because my hands were so greasy—Hogg said, “If you gotta take a piss, better do it now.” His toes moved on my crotch. “That’s what I’m doing.” And then, “Here …” He scraped up a couple more French fries from his plate and fed them to me. “Keep you shittin’, boy.” His hands a knot of dirt hiding his cup, he drank the coffee down in a swig.

When he dropped his foot and stood up, it sounded like somebody poured a pot of water on the linoleum. He left a yellow puddle halfway to the cashier’s counter. The seat of his pants was dark with the wet. His cuff dripped all over. I followed him, just as one of the drivers looked back, saw the floor, and said, “Jesus Christ …!”

The cashier’s frames had slipped back down his nose so that the tops of his lenses cut his pale eyes in half. With three fingers, Hogg pushed the check, soggy with coffee, across the glass. The cashier blurted: “You take your d-d-dirty talk out of here, mister! We d-don’t want your money. Now get!”

Behind us one of the drivers was saying, “Hey, you see what that big, dirty motherfucker did? He pissed all over the … I mean he went and …” The others were really laughing now.

“Shit,” Hogg drawled. He grinned at me (rubbing his hand in my hair, like it was a friendly gesture, but I think he was getting some of the grease off): “Hey, cocksucker, we gotta remember this place. Looks like it’s good for a free meal.”

“And d-d-d-don’t c-c-come back!”

“PISS UP YOUR MOTHER’S PUSSY!” Hogg bellowed, and pounded his fist on the counter. It didn’t shatter, but the glass cracked side-to-side.

The cashier jumped, grabbed for his falling glasses—and missed.

I think I heard them break on the floor behind the counter, as the man disappeared to go scrabbling for them.

Outside, as we walked to the truck cab, Hogg grinned. “I don’t usually pull stuff like that.” On the gravel, he didn’t favor his bare foot at all. “I was just showing off for you some of the funny shit it tickles me to do.” Not even a little. “Them truckers sure thought it was funny.”