The Freelance Mentalists.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
 
"My best friend the bass player had to move away in our Senior Year, right before Christmas. His dad got transferred. In this case because of the war, indirectly. But the next fall, I already had enough of that so-called University, I took off during Homecoming. We got drunk and woke up walking around downtown Sunday. Like the song, except it was empty, which was an improvement on where I'd just come from. But mainly I kept thinking, this is where JFK bought it. Down here in Houston."
He was muttering, but I'd heard him right. What a punchline. Then
"Haaa you're serious! It was *Dallas* where he was shot! And you wanna transfer to Harvard!!"
He winced, but it seemed habitual, and whatever he'd been staring at was gone, or the stare was, anyway.
 
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