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Show RTVER remember is yelling "Rollin', rollin', rollin' on a river," into a microphone. The song has surely been sung much better, but seldom with such feeling. God knows what happened the rest of the night and he's probably trying to forget. I woke up in pain next morning, sprawled and stiff in an easy chair across the hall from my room, having evidently been unable to fit the key into the lock. I'd blown my big chance to sleep in a bed. Damn. It felt like somebody had tried to beat me to death with a club and nearly succeeded. It was the fiercest hangover I'd ever known. I could hardly see. Even the light filtering into the dusty hallway was painful. I recollected my lack of recollectionO. I felt to see if I still had my wallet. I did, and I still had about six dollars. I got paranoid not knowing what had happened in the dark drunken hours of the early morning and decided I'd better get my ass or whatever was left of it out of town, and quickly. I went into my room, gazed ruefully at my undisturbed bed, and got my gear together. I staggered down the stairs to the grill. If I looked half as bad as I felt, I must have looked three days dead. The waitress who had served me a hamburger the night before was behind the counter and she looked at me and my load. "You going now?" she said. "Yes'm," I mumbled. She broke into a gentle grin that was as puzzling as the Mona Lisa's. "Be careful," she said. -170- |