“Sure have,” Dan agreed, “Why?”
“Fuckaroolee time,” Gerry said, “Dumbass!”
“Hey,” I said. XXX “What’s wrong?” Gerry said, “Ain’t she legal?”
“No,” I said and I tried to figure out what to say, “She ain’t registered.”
“Hey Jarvis get down here,” Gerry shouted and trooper Dave Davis staggered drunkenly from his truck and came across, “His whore ain’t registered,” he said. “It’s time,” she said. The big four lane girder bridge over the west river loomed up and I seriously considered stopping right there on the shoulder and walking home, well not home that was twenty five miles away but maybe to my pal Gerry’s place about a mile from the freeway.
