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Show 22 saw what a atate he was in. His zipper was down, but he hadn't made it to the toilet* He'd peed his pants good. His shirt was stained. His stubbly beard told her he'd been on a binge for several days. The Oscar Pruitt she knew was always clean shaven. How'm I_ gonna get him home? Dyna thought, her mind rushing ahead to Gram's big Friday night plans. She knew the ladies wouldn't play cards without Oscar* "Can you get up?" Dyna put her arm under his shoulders and tried to raise him. He was a dead weight. She jiggled him, patted his cheek. He was breathing, all right, his breath smelled like an outhouse* "Oscar, you can't stay here I" she cried, beginning to panic. She laid him down and sat back on her heels. Her eyes searched the outer drive, then the street that bisected the park. This place is always crawling with cops. Today, naturally, there won't be any! Dyna piled her books next to Oscar, checked his rear pocket for a billfold, found it, slipped it into her own pocket, then started off toward 9th South. The first person she saw was a man polishing his VW, his car stereo blasting away. He looked fortyish. Safe enough. "Hey," Dyna shouted to be heard above the music. "There's an old man over there by the duck pond. He's passed out. He's a friend of mine--" The guy shook his head. He couldn't hear her. He reached into his car and punched a button. The music stopped and she started over again, but he hardly listened. "Sorry, I gotta be somewhere," he said, flicking her off like an insect* Dyna gave him a long, hard look and turned on her heel* After several trips back to Oscar's tree, Dyna spotted a cop cruising through the park. She wasn't exactly into jogging, but a quick sprint with both arms waving brought the patrol car to a halt at the curb. "Having problems?" The officer hung an arm out of the window. "Boy, am I! My dad's passed out over there on the grass," she pointed,"and I have to get him home. Could you give me a hand?" (extra spacing here) |