“Every Sunday of his married life he came downstairs to a stack of buttered blueberry pancakes, now he’s listening to Tanya Tucker’s “Ridin’ Out the Heartache” on High Country 104, having a cigarette, and sharing a can of King Oscar sardines with Alfie the cat. Hey there, where you headed? I told him I don’t really know Neither does he, but this is one morning when it doesn’t matter, he’s traveling to the Stoneport races and he’s not worried about anything but speed. “You got to conc...entrate,” he says to Alfie at the breakfast table. “You can’t think of nothing but the engine or else you’re fucked.” He’d take Alfie with him for luck but the cat goes wild and starts throwing up hair balls the minute he’s aboard a boat. He opens a fresh can of Norwegian brisling sardines in olive oil. Alfie doesn’t go for the local ones anymore since he came back, some yuppie must have been feeding him on the back porch and spoiled his taste.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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