"LIKE A DREAM" — © 1987 - 1999 by Charles Dobie

LIKE A DREAM : Page 2

Casey turns suddenly to punch my shoulder. "So, how ya doin'?"

I shrug. "Okay."

"No, I mean really. How ya feelin'?"

"The shits."

"You got the shits?"

Laughter tugs at my throat, and I gag on a porridge of tears and cigarettes. "No!"

"The bloody card game was your idea in the first place, you know."

"So?"

"So? So? So why'd you run out on everyone like that? Tired of all the high-class conversation or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'."

"Yeah? Well? Hey, c'mon man, out with it!"

I'm soaked with sweat, fighting panic. I ponder the meaning of trust, then suddenly don't care. I marvel at the calmness of my words: "I guess once you've heard one fag joke, you've heard 'em all."

Casey turns slowly back to re-examine the switches. Then: "Smoke?" He waves an Export A.

"I said 'once you've heard one fag joke, you've heard 'em all'!" My voice is an ugly shout.

He feigns amazement: "That what you said?"

"It's not funny!"

"But the guys always talk like that. Shit man, even you've told lots worse jokes than that one before -- hey, remember the one about the two . . . ."

"I don't wanna fuckin' hear about it!"

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"LIKE A DREAM" — © 1987 - 1999 by Charles Dobie