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Show page 222 Fly movies every day of the week if they want to. They are lounging in front of Coot Palm's cafe with their cronies, Tangle Eye, Papa Jack, and Turner Rice, this last time in. Blue is r a t t l i n g change and humming a snatch of authentic blues, "Sixty-one highway, longest highway that I knows." Along sixty-one, the mythical line to prosperity, the oil m i l l 's running and the foundry is xvolfing slack coal a l l day long. But sixty-one on the dice, when you're looking for your point, is a crap-out; i t ' s also a win on the come-out. Papa Jack chants, "Oh, the cap'n c a l l the waterboy and the waterboy laugh, the cap'n zoom h i s foot up the waterboy's - " He sights dusty mill workers and breaks off. He s t a r t s shucking, pretending to shoot dice. "Put dox^m, man, I don't believe fat meat's greasy." Big Blue r o l l s the dice when the mill hands draw abreast. He snaps his fingers like p i s t o l shots. "Chuckaluck, the more you put down the more you pick up." Blue retrieves the dice, pulls out his r o l l and begins peeling. Dollar b i l l s f a l l like rain. Several of the mill hands pause. Tangle Eye beckons, "Hey, man, come here and fade this fool, he c a n ' t pass a l i c k ." Tang i s crosseyed, a good t a l k e r . He's no slouch at craps, and can throw three-card monte out of this world. Deep water's along the sidewalk but none of the mill hands tread in i t. Blue and h i s cronies keep shucking. Toilers continue to stream across the t r a c k s , women mostly, from the Sunshine laundry, the hotel, kitchens from Alex Stephens and Frank Stanton Circles. They earry-papcc^reared pans of food, extra pairs of shoes, old |
