"Well, you gotta see it, Harlan. I'll take you over to the Dingle Dangle Bar tonight. Say, maybe we can even get Seth inside. Give the boy a thrill. Shit, he can pass for old enough if we pull a cap down over his eyes. Besides, you being his pa and all, they'd probably let him in anyway."

"The boy's getting his thrill this afternoon. Besides, like I told you, Cal, I got me a farm to run."

"Shit, one night away from the place ain't gonna hurt none. You'd think them hogs of yours was milk cows the way you carry on about 'em. You likely fed 'em enough slop before you left to keep em eating high off the hog for a week." He chuckled. "High off the hog, Harlan. High off the hog."

Harlan smiled, chugging down the rest of his beer. "You always had a sharp wit about you, Cal. Never could deny that. Well, let me put it this way – I ain't saying yes, and I ain't saying no. We'll wait awhile and see." He crushed his empty beer can and flung it across the room. The crumpled aluminum wad careened off the wall and dropped into the trash bucket.

"Nice shot," Cal said, tossing Harlan another sweaty can of Coors from the ice-chest on the floor between them. "Maybe tonight you can get a shot at one of them open strippers. Some of them broads look like they been fucked by a donkey."

"Maybe they have," Harlan said, and Cal guffawed. "Maybe they have." And Cal hugged his paunch. Cal always was one to appreciate a good joke. Maybe that's why Cal had such a sharp wit.

The door flew open from one of the back rooms and Seth stomped in and pulled up a chair next to Harlan. As he settled himself, he clunked the heels of his overgrown bare feet on the sill of the window before which they were all seated.