nevada 2:2
The cashier was a waxy lady with eighteen inches of Nevada beehive on her head. She called me sugar and gave me the bonus roll of nickels from a coupon offer at a motel where we hadn't stayed plus three nickels for the kids' pennies. Have a drink, she said. Can't, I said, just passing through. Kids in the car. You don't look like a family man, she said. I'm not, I said, babysitting. Looks like not too well, she said. No, I said, not too well. Shame, she said, I would've fucked you. I gasped a little at that. She gave me a smile that said only in Nevada, honey, and just kidding. I blew the three nickels, too many plums and clowns, then walked out to the car. The kids were subdued in the heat of the parked car. As I'd suspected, no one had come to kidnap them. Children are not a commodity in Nevada. I dropped into the driver's seat and hit the ignition. You won, I said, tossing the rolled nickels into the back seat.
move on... 
other roads...
Back Up...
other roads:
