What Happens When You Don't Play Ball Page 2

  ###“What about a onion ring, Grannie?” He holds one up. It looks greasy, smells greasy.

  “I wouldn’t care for one, thank you,” she says. They are now heading east out of Valdosta, on the Statenville highway.

  The meter ticks.

  “My old lady just had herself a hysterectomy. Same hospital you was in.” He chomps down hard on the Big Mac, peels back the paper and chomps again. Swigs Coke through a straw stuck through the lid of a plastic cap.

  “I’m sorry to hear about that,” Miss Faye says.

  Now they are getting into the woods, the pine tops look silver wringing in the wind.

  “Might as well lean back and enjoy the ride, Grannie. You in for a long one.” He is down to the ice and the straw makes a grating slurping sound. “They don’t call it Fargo for nothing. You got folks over there?” He wads the burger wrapper, tosses it to the floor.

  “Don’t you ever just think?”