“Sp-Sp-Spence,” I sputtered.  “Come here, boy.”

     “What’s up, boss?” he asked.  “Can I call you boss?” He offered me a sunflower seed.

     I grabbed a handful. “I’ve got a job for you.”  I put my arm around him.  “It’s a secret job,” I confided.  “You’ll need the suicide pills.”

     Well, Spence didn’t swallow (just like Bud said).

     “Come on, Travis.  Leave me alone, okay? I share my weed with you.”

     I took it easy on him.  “I need you to inventory all our power tools.  Go around and count everybody’s drills and such.  Do it real quick.  Go!”

     Whoosh!

     Spence blasted on over to where Bubba and Dave West were shooting the breeze and performing the Pose most professionally.

     “Excuse me,” Spence began.  “Travis told me to count your tools.”

     I won’t elaborate on Bubba’s reply.

     The question was carefully re-phrased, especially since it was Bud that Spence (warily) approached next.

     “Yeah, whatever,” Bud said.  “Hey, Spence!  You wanna buy some of my kid’s Girl Scout cookies?”

     Spence was shocked (for about the millionth time).  “You got a little girl, Bud?”

     “Sure!” Bud was proud.  “She’s my honey bunny!  Her name’s Daphne!”

     “I didn’t know they let people like you reproduce, Bud!”  Spider was alive with the wonder of it.  “Is she half goat?”

     “Look, you fucking dope addict, you watch your mouth!” Bud warned.

     Spence elected to purchase the cheapest tin of cookies available (it was still ten bucks).  “Thanks!” Bud beamed.  “We just need to sell thirty more, and we’ll get a years supply of El POS Mexican frozen burritos!  I hate Mexicans but I love their fucking burritos almost as much as I positively adore their little boys!”

     Spence departed in his usual state: terrified and broke.

2026 R.M. Reliable Electric