multiplicities of meaning every day. What did people do out here, in
these fringe settlements? Where did they find their meaning?
According to his map, he was truly in the middle of nowhere.
He pulled into a sturdy-looking place with an old wooden sign
that read, “Vic’s Motel And Go-Go Bar.” He certainly could use a
drink. As he walked in the front door he was greeted by a middle-
aged prostitute whose haphazardly painted lips reminded him of the
lox trimmings his mother would buy from the deli at half price.
“Hey baby, you goin’ to a go-go?” she croaked.
“No I am not, you desiccated trollop. I need a place to stay-stay.
Would you kindly ring Vic for me? I haven’t the patience for chit-chat
with a chthonian princess such as yourself.”
“Hm!” she huffed,
“I’m
Vic, you big goober. As in Victoria. As in
victory
. As in you’re
evicted
before you even get here.”
Harvey reassessed the situation.
“Very well, madam. I take it you have a saloon on the premises?
I am parched from a long journey and could use a little pick-me-up
of an entirely different variety.”
“Right this way, sugar,” she said, brightening, and led him to an
adjoining room. “I hope you don’t want any dinner. My car’s busted
and all we got is parsley and pork rinds.”
“I’m on a liquid diet,” Harvey assured her.
The bar consisted of a small counter behind which stood three
large bottles of Jack Daniels and a small bottle of Tabasco sauce. A
large sign proclaimed that happy hour was from six to nine thirty,
when free pork rinds were offered with every drink.
There were three others at the bar. Harvey carefully took a seat
next to them. With his ill-fitting tweed sport coat and hush puppies,
an aesthetic imbalance arose in the room, but the truckers were
friendly enough to make room for the awkward stranger.
“I will have a double Jack Daniels, hold the Tabasco and pork
rinds, please,” said Harvey. Vic nodded and started hunting for a
clean glass.
“I’ll have’m,” said one long-faced trucker with a novelty hat. It
had a drawing of a bull on the front and the caption, SHIT,
underneath.
“Pardon me?” said Harvey delicately.
“Them pork rinds. You don’t want’m. I’ll eat’m, you don’t
want’m.” He grinned, and Harvey assumed that he had meant to say,
“I’ll gum’m.”
H O L Y S H I T !
20
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