 |
| Image courtesy Wiki Commons |
Rufus drove. Rufus
always drove.
“How come you
always get to drive?” Bud complained. He took the last swig of his
beer and flung the bottle out the window where it smashed against a
live oak. He hooted and reached between his feet to pull another out
of the carton.
“That's why.”
“What? What's
why?” Bud had already forgotten the question. He took a long pull
from the long neck.
Rufus nodded at the
bottle in his friend's meaty hand.
“You forget what
Sheriff Dalton said last time?” Rufus asked.
