The mechanic did a spit take, putting a thin brown Kool-Aid andSeven-Up fog into the air. Tom must have had some inner need to topthat; as he finished noisily chug-a-lugging his drink, Rainie could seethat he intended to throw the glass to the floor.

Apparently Minnie saw the same glint in his eye. Before he couldhardly move his arm she screeched at him, "Not on your life, TomReuther!"

"I paid for it last time," said Tom.

"You didn't pay for all the lunch customers who never came back. Now you boys sit down and be quiet and let folks have their lunch inpeace!"

"Wait a minute!" cried Douglas. "We haven't had the song yet."

"All right, do the song and then shut up," said Minnie. She turnedback to the chili and resumed dipping it out into the bowls, mutteringall the while, "... drive away my customers, spitting all over, breakingglasses on the floor ..."

"Whose turn to start?" somebody asked.

The mechanic rose to his feet. "I choose the tune."

"Not opera again!"

"Better than opera," said the mechanic. "I choose that pinnacle ofindigenous American musical accomplishment, the love theme fromOscar Meyer."

The boys all whooped and laughed. The man next to him rose tohis feet and sang what must have been the first words that came intohis mind, to the tune of the Oscar Meyer weiner jingle from -- what,twenty years ago? Rainie had to laugh ironically inside herself. Afterall my songs, and all the songs of all the musicians who've suffered andsweated and taken serious drugs for their art, what sticks in the memoryof my generation is a song about a kid who wishes he could be a hotdog so he'd have friends.

"I wish I had a friend in my nostril."

The next man got up and without hesitation sang the next line. "In fact I know that's where he'd want to be."

And the next guy: "Cause if I had a friend in my nostril."