This one’s for you, “Sammy.”

I was drivin’ down the road the other day, and I saw a pickup for sale. No, I’m not in the market for a pickup. This particular pickup happened to be parked in front of a house that belonged to a buddy of mine. Now, I hadn’t seen this guy in a long, long time, but I remembered that he was always one for a good joke. You know the type, they’re really gullible, and when you pull somethin’ on them, they almost get mad. Well, I couldn’t wait to get home, so I could pull somethin’ on him.

When I pulled up in my driveway, I jumped out of my truck almost before it stopped movin’. I ran into the house and grabbed the phone.

“Who are you calling?” asked Janet.

“Sammy,” I said. I’ve changed his name because he said that if I wrote about this and used his real name, he’d beat the snot out of me. Since I’m runnin’ low on snot, I decided to take his advice.

“You haven’t seen him in a long while, have you?” asked Janet.

“Nope,” I said, as I dialed.

“Why are you calling him?”

“He’s got a pickup for sale,” I answered.

“You don’t need another pickup,” she informed me.

“I ain’t buyin’ the pickup. I’m gonna have some fun with him.”

“Rusty,” she warned. 

“Shhhhsh,” I shhhshed, as I heard him pick up the phone.

“Hello,” Sammy said.

“Uh, yes,” I said into the receiver, disguisin’ my voice. “Is you the one that’s got the pickup for sale?”

“Yes,” he said.

“How much you wantin’ for it?” I asked.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” he replied.

“Fifteen thousand dollars!" I exclaimed.

“Yes,” he said. I swear I could hear him rollin’ his eyes.

“Wow! Fifteen thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money. My house didn’t cost fifteen thousand dollars.” I waited for a comment, but none came.

“Does it have a satellite dish?” I asked.

“Well, no,” he said.

“My house does,” I said.

“Does it have a bathroom?”

“Of course not.”

“My house does.”

“Does it have an attic fan?”

“Look,” he said. (I could tell he was gettin’ mad.) “If you are not interested in the truck….”

“Who said I’m not interested,” I replied. “I’m just askin’ some questions.  Like, how fast do it go?”

“What do you mean?”

“Man, I don’t know how to ask it any plainer. How fast do it go?”

I heard him sigh. “I don’t know how fast it goes.”

“Well, will it go sixty?”

“Yes, it will go sixty.”

“Will it go eighty?”

“Yes.”

“Will it go a hunnerd?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess I can find out when I test drive it.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said.

“How do it corner?”

“Look Mister….,” he said.

“The last truck I had didn’t corner worth a hoot. I went around a corner once and thowed my wife out.”

“Is that right?” he said, like he was bored.

“Yeah.  I didn’t know it right off cause I wudn’t lookin’ in the rearview mirror. She just flew out the back.”

“You had your wife in the back of the truck?”

“Sure. Where do you carry yours?”

“Look Mister. I’m really busy.”

“Me too,” I said. “I’m tryin’ to find a truck. What are you doin’?”

“Talkin’ to some idiot,” he said, through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“No kiddin’,” I replied. “I was doin’ that earlier today. We was fightin’ over a dog.”

“Do what?”

“Yeah, he said his dog was purdier than mine, and any fool could see his dog couldn’t hold a candle to my dog.”

“I can’t believe this,” he sighed.

“It’s true. It’s true. My dog is really purdy. Know what I named her?”

“No,” he said sarcastically. “Please tell me.”

“Purdy,” I said. “That’s what I named her, Purdy, on account of her bein’ purdy and all.”

“Listen Pal,” he said.

“You want to know what the other dogs name was?”

“No.”

“Sammy,” I replied. “Now, ain’t that a dumb name for a dog.  It’s bad enough for a human.”

It got really quiet on the other end of the phone.

“You still there?” I asked.

“My name is Sammy,” he informed me.

“It is?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Ooops,” I said. “Hey, how about that truck,” I said, actin’ like I was changin’ the subject. “How about I come over there and give it a test drive. It’s a four wheel drive ain’t it? You don’t mind if I get a little mud on it do you?” He didn’t answer.

“You think you might come off that price?”

“You sound awful familiar,” he said.  “What’s your name?”

“J.J. Boogenstool,” I replied.

“Bull,” he said. “This is Rusty Mitchum isn’t it?”

“Who?” I said, tryin’ not to laugh.

“I’m going to kill you,” he said, and he sounded almost like he meant it.

“Kill me?” I laughed. “Why oh why would you want to kill me.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” he said, his voice softenin’ a little.

“Nope,” I said. “Not one bit.”

“I swear,” he chuckled. “One of these days somebody is going to beat the living snot out of you, and I hope I’m there to see it.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well,” I said, as I looked over at Janet, who was lookin’ at me with one of “those looks.” “You better hurry on over, because the way Janet is lookin’ at me, it’s not goin’ to be long.” 

And do you know what? It wasn’t.

 

All Rights reserved 6/19/2005