SYNOPSIS

    Wild, immature, guitar-playing, Billy Tucker is sentenced to five years at Bingham Penitentiary for stealing a guitar while still on parole for another crime.  Everyone, including the judge, the sheriff, and even the music store owner feel bad about it, but they figure it's time for Billy to grow up.
    Billy tells his cousin, Lonnie, to help out his pregnant girlfriend, Mary Lu, while he's gone.  Not the type to cope with life on her own, Mary Lu weeps as she tells Lonnie that she is unable to pay the rent now that Billy is gone and that she is also afraid of being alone.  Helpful Lonnie, (who was Mary Lu's boyfriend before Billy), tells her he will be more than happy to help her in her time of need and moves in with her.
    In prison, Billy forms a country band, but can't find a good singer.  While mopping the floor in front of the new warden's office, Billy hears someone singing and playing guitar inside.  He asks a guard the name of the prisoner singing.  The guard answers, "Ain't no prisoner; it's the new warden."  Amazed, but fearless, Billy asks the warden to sing with the band.
    The warden, Jesse 'The Whiz' Manners, a rugged, former football hero in the state, who was cajoled into his job by his uppity wife and unsavory politician father-in-law, joins the band for the novelty and with hopes that it might create a better rapport between him and the inmates.  To everyone's surprise, the band and the warden are a smash at the prison and are soon invited to play at other prisons around the state.  Eventually, the band gets a write-up in the local newspaper.   
    Meanwhile, Billy's girlfriend, Mary Lu, gives birth to a red-headed baby girl.  However, Billy's hair is blond; Lonnie's is red.  Mary Lu and Lonnie worry about what Billy will do when he finds out, but decide to confront him.  They visit Billy in prison and before they can say anything, Billy looks at the baby and tells them, to their dismay, that his hair was also red when he was born and that it didn't turn blond until he was eight-years-old. Distraught, Mary Lu and Lonnie leave not knowing who the father is. Mary Lu refuses a DNA test.
    Judy Wiley, a pert, young producer at WINK TV in town, sees the band's write-up in the paper and asks the warden if she can produce a TV show featuring the band.  Jesse, constantly put down by his wife and his father-in-law for playing in the band, decides to stick it to them and gives Judy the okay to produce the show.  Jesse soon finds himself attracted to Judy, and Judy to him.  The show becomes a local hit and is eventually beamed to other states. 
    After watching the TV show in a dingy bar in Nashville, a has-been producer goes to Bingham prison.  He tells Jesse and Billy that he can make them stars and wants to record an album.  Jesse and Billy view the producer as 'spacey' but go along him so they can, at least, have a CD of the band. The recording equipment is snuck into an empty section of solitary confinement and they record an album entitled "Solitary Confinement."  To their amazement, Capitol Records offers a million dollars for it unaware that the band is in jail.
    A tornado strikes during one of their TV shows and Jesse is hurt. Quick thinking Billy and the band put the warden into an empty police and drive him to the hospital. When the warden recoups, he asks the parole board to pardon the band because they saved his life and didn't try to escape. The band is soon paroled.    
    Billy meets with Lonnie and Mary Lu and realizes that they are really in love and backs off, leaving on good terms.  Not sure who the father really is, they decide that Lonnie will be the father and Billy will be an uncle since he will be on the road playing, but will help pay for the baby.
    Divorced from his wife, Jesse decides to stay on as warden and his place in the band is taken by a cousin of one of the band members. He makes a deal with Capitol Records as a solo recording artist with the stipulation he doesn't have to go on the road, just do an album a year.  In the end, we see the band on tour in different cities and finally playing to an audience of smiling faces at the Grand Ol' Opry with Jesse being announced as surprise guest artist.

READ FIRST TWO CHAPTERS          

    The blazing sun shimmered across the array of flattened beer cans that spelled out, "Bilbo's Auto Repair and Junkyard," nailed neatly over the entrance to the dilapidated, red barn. Stapled to the paint-peeled sides of the barn were new and old weather-beaten posters of country and rock 'n' roll bands, past and present, and remnants of legal notices from the fire department, the health department, and the department of building and safety, all condemning the barn. Old Oklahoma license plates colorfully lined one side of the open double doors, and various demolition derby and rodeo posters lined the other.
     Junked cars, engines, doors, axles, wheels, seats, and piles of other discarded auto parts littered the outside premises. The smell of gasoline, oil, and solvents was omnipresent, and the dirt throughout the area was saturated with a black oily surface, although a few scraggly flowers and weeds fought the toxic environment and managed to survive. A small, white butterfly landed on one of the flowers but immediately flitted away. Aside the highway, about 50 yards away, a billboard read: "Welcome to Bingham, Oklahoma - Population 15,811 - Bingham Penitentiary Turn Left-5 Miles."
     Inside the garage, chain-smoking, leather-faced, ex-con, Virgil Bilbo, 40, and precocious, baby-faced Billy Tucker, 13, sweated as they worked under the hood of a car on a humid autumn afternoon. The train whistle from the Wabash Cannonball could be heard in the distance as it passed the railroad crossing a quarter of a mile away at Pawnee Road. Within seconds, it thundered down the tracks behind the garage at full speed, creating its usual mini-earthquake, shaking and vibrating the garage and everything on the premises. As usual, the insects outside let out a big stink for a minute or two, swarming their discontent, then finally went back to their daily lives of survival as the train disappeared into the distance.
     Virgil and Billy were so accustomed to the deafening clamor of the train-although it sounded like it was going to crash right into the barn-that they just kept on working as if they hadn't even heard it. The only effect from the train was that the long, dangling ashes on the end of Virgil's cigarette vibrated off. While they worked, Virgil glanced up from time to time at the national championship football game blasting over the beat-up TV set nearby.
     "It's a long pass!" shouted the announcer. "It's caught! Oh, no! It slipped off the fingers of Jesse 'the Whiz' Manners. The football was thrown just a little too long for Jesse to hold on to! But it was a great try by the Whiz."
     "Damn it! I thought Jesse caught that ball," Virgil moaned. "Okay, Billy. Now keep your eye on the fan blades while I put the radiator in. Holler if I'm going to hit any of them."
     "You got it, Virg," Billy said, watching closely as Virgil guided in the radiator with his long, tattooed arms. Billy studied Virgil's bizarre tattooed arms: a woman's head on the body of a snake, a fat, cross-eyed woman smoking a cigar, a spider web with a big eye in the center, and several other small faded ones.
     "You think I'm ready to get my first tattoo, Virg?"
     "Naw. You got plenty of time for that, Billy Boy."
     Billy idolized Virgil. Virgil took him fishing, to the rodeos, the stock car races, and any other event that came to Bingham or Oklahoma City. In a sense, even though Billy was poor, he saw and did many things that some affluent kids didn't see or do because their parents were just too busy.
     "Time back in," blurted the announcer on TV. "The ball's snapped! The quarterback hands the ball to the Whiz!" Virgil looked up at the TV. "He's at the 30! The 20! The 10!" Excited, Virgil stood up, banging his head under the open hood. He gave a yelp, grimaced, and rubbed his head, all of which did not deter him from the TV. "The Whiz is gonna score! He's gonna score," yelled the sportscaster. "Oh, no! He was pushed out of bounds at the 2-yard line! Oh, Lord! And with only three seconds left in the game, State quickly calls its last time out, and so are we. We'll be right back with the final play of the game with the national championship on the line."
     "I thought the Whiz was gonna score on that one, Billy Boy," Virgil said, looking back under the hood and quickly screwing the radiator in place. "Did you see how I put the radiator in, Billy?"
     "Sure did, Virg."
     "Good. Next time I get one of these radiator jobs, I think I'll have you work first wrench."
     "Wow! Gee thanks, Virg,"
     "Whataya say we have a beer while we watch the last play of the game?" Virgil suggested, slamming down the hood.
     "All right! I'll get 'em, Virg, I hope you got time to show me some guitar pickin'?"
     "Hey, that's part'a your pay, Billy Boy. Bring your guitar back with you."
     Billy wiped his greasy hands on a clean rag as he hurried to the beat-up, antiquated refrigerator on the other side of the barn. Virgil washed his hands in the filthy sink nearby with some degreaser and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw his own wrinkled face in half the mirror, and, in the other half, Billy all excited as he ran to get the beer and his guitar. As Virgil watched him, he saw a hazy resemblance of himself from years past….
*
     Virgil was the unfortunate result of his childhood milieu. His parents grew up in poverty, had little schooling, and had both done prison time. It was just the way things were for most people who were born under those conditions. Consequently, the seedy people with whom his parents associated influenced his youth. He was arrested at twelve for petty theft, served time in a juvenile facility at fourteen, joined a motorcycle gang when he was sixteen, did time for car jacking at eighteen, and finally at twenty was convicted of assault, attempted robbery of a Brink's armored car, and attempted murder--he had shot at, and missed, the Brinks guard during the attempted robbery. All told, Virgil served thirteen years in prison.
     Virgil stood 6'3", never weighed more than 150 pounds, had acne and was self-conscious about his looks. His eyes constantly moved from side to side when he talked to strangers, and he rarely looked anyone in the eyes -- except his friends. He had a jagged knife scar on the left side of his face that he got in prison, and his normal expression was that of defiance. The locals simply described him as "one scary looking Dude."
     He always wore a cowboy hat, a T-shirt -- usually, with a country or rock 'n' roll band's name on it, torn Levis, and boots, and he was the only person in town who wore spurs all the time. Whenever the gentry heard the sound of his spurs behind them, they did their best to move out of his way. His bizarre tattoos appalled the locals. Virgil knew it and often wondered how they would react if they saw the multi-colored butterfly he had tattooed on his mojo. He often fantasized about walking down the main drag with his fly unzipped and his mojo hanging out.
     Virgil was a paradox. The people in town paid full price and then some for auto repairs at his garage. However, he repaired wheelchairs for the elderly and bicycles for the kids free, only charging them for parts at cost. He charged half-price to the physically handicapped, seniors, ex-cons, and the adventurous girls who had heard about his butterfly tattoo and wanted to see it. Although of course, there were conditions for the viewing.
*
     Billy pulled two cans of beer from the refrigerator, picked up his guitar, and hustled back to Virgil. They each zipped open their beer cans, took a gulp, and gave a big "aaah" of satisfaction.
     The commercial segment finished on TV, the sports announcer said dramatically, "Well, the referee just blew his whistle, and the teams are all lined up ready for the last play of the game, with the national championship on the line. Here we go. The ball's snapped. The quarterback hands the ball to the Whiz. The Whiz runs left. He's got blockers in front of him. It looks like he has an opening! No, his interference got knocked down! He reverses his field and is now running back to the right all by himself! The gun just went off! It's do or die for State!"
     "Go, Jesse, go!" Virgil yelled, hopping around. "Go, Jesse, go!"
     "There's only one player between Jesse and the goal line, All-American tackle, Bobby Dupree," shouted the announcer. "It looks like he's gonna tackle Jesse! Holy moly! This is unbelievable! Jesse just dove over Bobby and scored! It's a touchdown! State wins the National Championship! Jesse 'The Whiz' Manners did it! He did it! The crowd is going crazy!"
     Elated, Virgil yelled, "We won, Billy! We're the National Champs! The Whiz did it!" Then he danced hippity-hop, his spurs jiggling as he did. He spun around several times and finally contorted his body like a pretzel. Billy laughed as Virgil continued to gyrate out of control, his long ponytail swinging wildly. Virgil got so excited he forgot he had a cigarette in his mouth and tried to take a swig of beer -- spilling the beer all over the front of his old, torn Steppenwolf T-shirt. Billy laughed harder. Virgil liked to make Billy laugh because he knew Billy never laughed at home. Finally, Virgil settled down, clicked off the TV, and walked over to Billy.
     "Why do they call Jesse Manners, the Whiz?" Billy asked.
     "Because he can run so fast, that's why. Jesse Manners is probably the most famous man in Oklahoma today. And probably will be for a long, long time. Boy, that was really somethin'. Well...let's hear what you practiced on your guitar."
     Billy put down his beer and strummed a few guitar chords slow and precise, but then he played a clinker.
     "Whoa! Wait a minute there, Billy Boy," Virgil exclaimed. Billy stopped playing. Virgil moved one of Billy's fingers to a different position. "If you move your little finger over there it's easier to hit the B7 chord. Now try it." Billy played the chord a few times and Virgil nodded. "That's it. Now play the song from the beginning and see if you can play it all the way through while I sing along." Virgil tapped his foot nice and easy for the tempo -- Billy played; Virgil sang:

          From the cool Atlantic Ocean to the warm Pacific shore
          From the green ol' Ozark Mountains to where the eagles soar
          She's mighty tall and handsome and known quite well by all
          I'm goin' to the station to hop the Wabash Cannonball

          Listen to the jingle, the rumble, and the roar,
          As she glides along the woodland through the hills and by the shore
          Hear the chuggin' of the engine, the lonesome hoboes call,
          You're traveling through the jungles on the Wabash Cannonball

    *

     Billy's cousin, Lonnie, moved to Bingham when he was thirteen years old with his mother-Billy's mother's alcoholic sister whose boyfriend was doing time in Bingham for fraud. Billy and Lonnie hit it off right away and became best friends. Lonnie was into computers, trying to figure out how to get rich and surfing the web for naked women, while Billy was totally engrossed in learning to play the guitar and fixing cars -- (not that he wasn't interested in naked women, too).
     Like Billy, Lonnie was also very mechanical and had already taken his computer apart and, although it had taken him three months, had figured out how to put it back together. However, Lonnie's first love was money. He worked after school and weekends and saved every penny he ever made from the day he came to Bingham.
     The boys looked a lot alike, except Lonnie's hair was as strikingly red as Billy's was blond-although Billy wasn't born blond. With their cute, captivating smiles and great personalities, they looked the picture of clean-cut, all-American boys. They were, in fact, just the opposite. They were both irresistible to girls, and were constantly in girl trouble throughout their teens.
     Billy dropped out of high school after his first year, and went to work full-time for Virgil. However, Lonnie knew the advantages of a good education and stayed in school. Many in town figured that Lonnie would wind up a rich man because of his drive and desire to achieve. On the other hand, there was no doubt in most people's minds that Billy would wind up in Bingham Penitentiary-he had already been arrested for car theft three times. "It's just a matter of time" was the consensus. However, many knew that Virgil had a lot to do with it.
     Over the years, Billy had learned how to smoke cigarettes and marijuana, drink beer, wine, and whiskey, shoot a gun, break into cars and hot-wire the ignition, bypass security alarms, and even how to totally dismantle a car and remove the serial numbers. Virgil showed him every trick of his trade, if you could call it that, and was real proud that his "legacy" would be carried on.
     Virgil knew that Billy loved the guitar more than anything else, and taught Billy everything he knew. In time, Billy learned how to play the guitar better than Virgil. On the other hand, Virgil was blessed with a good singing voice, and although Billy had a pleasant voice, singing wasn't his forte. However, as he got older, Billy began writing songs, and each song he wrote got better and better. Billy wrote the songs; Virgil sang them.
     At seventeen Billy formed a country band with some friends, Clyde White, Booker Parsons, and Sonny Gilbeau. The group got their first gig at the Blackboard Club and played the Happy Hour from 4:00 to 8:30 p.m. Clyde's father played chaperone and roadie, and transported the band and all the instruments to the gig. Even though they were underage, the boys were allowed in the bar because it also served food and because they were under the supervision of Clyde's father.
     They were well received and got a lot of tips. Buck Bowens, owner of the Blackboard Club, really wished they could play the night gig because they were actually better than the regular band, but Clyde's father wouldn't go for it-Clyde had a propensity for drinking and his father wanted to be around to make sure Clyde didn't get drunk. Eventually, the group played Happy Hours at different clubs around town and they became well known. This went on until everyone in the band turned twenty-one, at which time they began playing the regular night gigs. Billy was getting a rep as a real good guitar player and songwriter, but also as a heavy drinker, a womanizer, and a brawler.
     The girls loved him, and he would hit on any girl who struck his fancy, even if she had a boyfriend with her. He wound up in a lot of fights because of this, and got tossed into jail several times. All Billy cared about was going to his gigs, playing guitar, getting drunk, and getting lucky.

THE PRESENT

     Tall, blond, and handsome, but looking bloated, Billy, and a much older looking Virgil, wiped their hands and slammed down the hood on the last car of the day.
     "You'd better start laying off the beer, Billy. You're really startin' ta look bloated."
     "Don't matter none. The girls still dig me."
Virgil didn't answer. He just looked at Billy and shook his head. They gulped the last swig from their beer cans, and then flung them into the recycle barrel nearby.
     Virgil took one last drag on his cigarette butt and began coughing. Then he threw the butt down and squashed it mercilessly with his boots. "I've had it with these damn cigarettes," he wheezed in between coughs and gasps. Finally, he stopped coughing and was able to take several breaths. After he was able to breathe somewhat normally, he lit up another cigarette. "You playin' at the 'Back Forty' tonight with Clyde, Booker, and Sonny?"
     "No, we're not playin' tonight. Clyde took sick so we took the weekend off. This is the first weekend we haven't played in some honky tonk in ages."
     "Damn it! I was hopin' I could come down and sing a few tunes with you boys tonight. I wanted to impress this nice lady I been datin'. She just finished two years probation and we wanted to celebrate." Virgil shrugged, took a wad of money out of his pocket, peeled off some bills, and handed them to Billy.      "Here's your pay, Billy. Now stay out'a trouble, will you? I know how you get when you ain't playin'. I don't wanna come and bail ya out'a jail in the middle of the night again."
     Billy gave Virgil his innocent, boyish smile, "I promise I'll be an angel."
     "You'd better be, damn it! You're on probation. One more time may just get you into Bingham Penitentiary. And there ain't no angels there."
     "Don't worry, Virg. Nothin's gonna happen." Billy got into his pickup and gunned his engine; Virgil grimaced. Billy smiled at him, then peeled out, spun a few wheelies, howled like a rodeo rider on top of a Brahma Bull, and screeched away.
     Billy sped down the highway without a care in the world, beeping his horn and waving at friends whose cars he passed, or who were driving on the other side of the road. After a few miles, he turned into a long dirt driveway leading to an old, rundown house. He screeched to a stop in front of the house as clouds of dust billowed high in the air. He got out of his pickup, walked up the crooked, worn front steps, and into the house.
     Billy's mother, with her perpetual expression of discontent, sat in her usual rocking chair, drinking her usual beer, smoking her usual cigarette, and listening to her usual country music on the radio. As usual, her gray hair wasn't combed and her same beer-stained floral dress had a few more cigarette burns in it. Billy bent over to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.
     "Got the rent money?"
Billy reached into his pocket and counted out the rent money into her hands. She took the money and stuffed it down the front of her dress.
     "Where's Pa?"
     "Where's Pa? That's a dumb question. He's where he always is: down at 'The Boozarella Bar and Grill' gettin' drunk. You're just like your father. You always ask dumb questions." Suddenly she started coughing uncontrollably.
     "You really ought'a stop smokin', Ma."
     coughing and gagging. Finally, she stopped and guzzled some beer. Billy gave up and went to his room to get ready for Friday night hell-raisin'.
*
     The relationship between Billy's mother, Rosetta Brisco, and his father, Lawrence Tucker, was that of two drunken barflies meeting at the Boozarella Bar and Grill. Neither had any education or intellect to speak of. They were older than most parents when Billy was born -- his father was fifty and his mother was forty-five. Billy was a totally unexpected and unwelcome event in their lives. His father owned the beat-up house in which they lived, which he had inherited from his parents, or he never would have owned one.
     A deal was struck between his mother and father-his mother could live in the house if she took care of it and Billy. She didn't do a very good job with either. Billy had to fight for his place in the world from his first breath. Most people marveled that he wasn't born with a mental or physical defect. However, they suspected that he would definitely have problems when he got older.
     Billy's father, a non-descript, blasé, insensitive man, who never spent much time with Billy, worked at the local lumberyard until he retired-his one saving grace. Of course, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Occasionally, his parents shared the same bed, depending on how drunk they were. His mother enjoyed being a stay-at-home drunk, and liked working in her garden. Billy's father built a chicken coop and a shed behind the house, where Billy practiced his guitar. In time, Billy could play a good imitation of chickens clucking and a rooster crowing on his guitar.
     Mrs. Rebecca Fondue, President of the Children's Benevolent Society, who had taken an interest in Billy, gave him a bicycle on his tenth birthday. One day while riding around on his bicycle, Billy got a flat tire in front of Virgil's Garage, and asked Virgil if he could fix it. That was the beginning of the Billy's relationship with Virgil.
*
     Billy stood in front of the mirror admiring himself as he combed his hair and got ready for his wild Friday night. He sipped a beer, and hummed a song he had been working on. Suddenly, he stopped, put down his beer, picked up his guitar, and began playing and singing the new song:

          "I just got confused and got lost in a maze
          Why you so mad - I was only gone three days" --
Billy shook his head and then played and sang the same part again.
          "I just got confused comin' back this a'way
          Heck, I was only gone a week and a day" --
     Billy thought about the words a few seconds and then sang the whole verse.
          "What's my suitcase doin' outside the front door?
          All I did was go to the liquor store
          I just got confused comin' back this a'way
          Heck, I was only gone a week and a day"
     Billy still wasn't satisfied and kept singing different words. Just when he thought he had found the right words, his mother banged on the door.
     "Will you take that noise out to the back shed? I'm watching TV and I can't hear what they're saying."
     The knocking startled Billy, who stopped playing and forgot the precious words he had worked so hard to find. Upset, he grabbed his guitar and stomped outside toward the shed next to the chicken coop. To release his frustration, he clucked loudly at the chickens that scurried around wildly and clucked back at him.
*
     Later that night at the Handy Dandy All-Night Convenience Store, the cashier, Mary Jo Holiday, Billy's girlfriend, waited on the usual menagerie of horny, wisecracking, Friday night six-packers. Her bubbly personality and sexy outfit kept the pickup truck boys ogling, scheming, and fantasizing.
On this particular night she wore hip huggers and a sexy lace halter top that showed off her boobs a whole lot-not that they needed any help. The halter also exposed a whole lot of midriff, and a tattoo of a heart with an arrow through it on the small of her back, just over the center of her fanny. She also wore several colorful bracelets, rings, and earrings.
     Mary Jo had a slim, compact body that couldn't have been proportioned any better, and a beautiful complexion that needed little makeup. She also had long, naturally blond hair that hung down to the middle of her back.
     Men constantly hit on her, and she enjoyed the attention. She was an artist at dealing with men, and was never uptight when they gave it their best shot. She knew most everyone that came into the store, and always had a little something to say while she waited on them….
     "Hi Dennis. How's your mom?"
     "She's fine," Dennis replied, subtly checking out her backside as she rang up his two six-packs and a pack of cigarettes.
     "Tell her I said hi."
     "Will do. Ah…I sure do like your tattoo, Mary Jo."
     Mary Jo smiled demurely. "Well, if you really liked it, you'd be lookin' a little higher so you could see it instead of looking at my cute, firm, reserved-for-Billy-Tucker-fanny."
     Dennis and the rest of the young "good ol' boys" standing in line laughed it up.
     "I'm sorry, Mary Jo. It's just that your cute fanny distracted me."
     "Well, I know it's hard, but try to control yourself, Dennis. That'll be $15.20," she said, popping her gum. The customers came and went, and Mary Jo kept wisecracking and popping her gum.
     As usual, the crowd thinned out at about 11:00 p.m., and she had a chance to relax a little before the midnight to 2:00 a.m. madhouse. She looked at the clock, hoping that her friend Tami Bell would show up while there was still a lull. Tami was like a sister to Mary Jo, and from the time they were kids had always watched out for her. She hadn't seen Tami since she had taken over managing a gym on the other side of town months earlier, although they chatted on the phone a lot. Mary Jo smiled and waved when she saw Tami drive up to the front of the store.
     As her friend entered the convenience store, Mary Jo noticed that she had lost some weight-Tami had hovered around 200 pounds for most of her teens. She was dressed in a short, black dress that was extremely chic, and she had on nylons and stylish high heels. Her long black hair swung from side to side as she walked and she had an air of authority about her. Although they were both twenty-three, Tami looked a bit older and more mature. Mary Jo actually felt somewhat intimidated. The girls embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.
     "It's good to see you, Tami. It's been a while."
     "Sure has."
     "You look great!"
     "Thanks. And you still look as pretty as ever, Mary Jo."
     "Thank you. You look like you've lost weight, Tami."
     "Sure have, and I'm gonna keep losing it. The gym has been a godsend to me."
     "Well, good for you. I'm glad you could come. I really need some moral support."
     "You can't say I didn't warn you."
     "I know, I know."
     "Look, it isn't that I don't like Billy," continued Tami. "He's fun, he's cute, but he's nothing but a grown up kid, a Casanova, and he's usually drunk. He's never gonna change and settle down."
     "Well, he's gonna have to settle down now."
     "You hope."
     "Promise me you won't say nothin' nasty to him, will ya, Tami? I don't want him in a bad mood when I tell him I'm pregnant."
     "Okay, as long as he behaves himself."
     An unexpected rush of customers suddenly entered the store. While Mary Jo waited on them, Tami perused the magazine rack, glancing up at Mary Jo from time to time.
*
     As kids, Mary Jo and Tami had lived on the same block. They shared the same school bus, the same Saturday movies, the same music, Barbie Dolls, and the same issues most young girls deal with growing up. Their parents were all friends and all had attended Bingham High years earlier-their fathers even played on the school football team together.
     Tami's father was vice president of Bingham Bank and Trust and helped Mary Jo's father obtain a loan to buy a house. Their families often got together for dinners, barbecues, and holiday functions.
     In grade school, Tami and Mary Jo did their homework together and both were good students; however, when they entered high school, Mary Jo changed. She began hanging out with the kids who ditched school, smoked, dressed ultra-trendy, and strutted around with their childish attitude of boredom and superiority. Only with Tami's help had Mary Jo managed to get passing grades in her freshman and sophomore years; however, in her senior year Mary Jo decided to quit school.
     Tami and her parents, as well as Mary Jo's own parents, had pleaded with her to finish high school. With tears in her eyes, Mary Jo explained that she hated school and homework, and that no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't comprehend what was going on. She said she was sorry and that all she wanted to do was get a job, buy a car and some new clothes, and go out dancing with her friends. Finally, everyone realized it was useless to argue with her. They just told her they would be there if she needed them. That night she celebrated by going out with her friends and getting a tattoo. Tami graduated from high school and moved to Norman where she lived with her aunt while attending college. After she received her AA in Business Management, she returned to Bingham.
     Slim Down, the only gym in town, went bankrupt and reverted to Tami's father's bank. When Tami returned from college, her father insisted that she take over the business. His reason was twofold: for Tami to get business experience at a young age, and for her to hopefully lose weight. Tami welcomed the challenge.
     "Let's Lose Weight Together" was her slogan. She put her picture in newspaper ads to show how overweight she was, and told everyone to watch her lose weight. It was a gamble, but Tami decided that she had had enough of being fat. She hired a weightlifter for the men, and an attractive woman in her forties experienced in leading exercises-she didn't want a beautiful, young girl who might intimidate the older and heavier women. Three months later, the business began to pay for itself, and with vitamins, health food, and exercise even Tami began losing weight.
*
     The convenience store cleared out once more, Tami rejoined Mary Jo at the cashier's counter. "So, do you think Billy will marry you?"
     "Damn right he will!"
     "And what if he doesn't?"
     "I don't know. Maybe I'll ask his cousin Lonnie to marry me."
     you switched from Lonnie to Billy?"
     "Well, I had just started goin' with Lonnie, maybe a week or so, and then he had to leave town for a couple of months. Then along came Billy and he completely overwhelmed me."
     "Didn't you tell Billy you were goin' with his cousin at the time?"
     "Yeah, but I guess I encouraged him. It's always been real hard for me not to have a boyfriend, Tami."
     "You're terrible, Mary Jo!" Tami said, hitting her lightly on one of her arms. "How could you do something like that?"
     "I don't know. It seemed okay to me at the time. Look, Tami, I didn't graduate high school or get two years of college like you did. Let's face it. I was never as smart as you were."
     "I know, but even so, Mary Jo. What did Lonnie say when he came back?"
     "He was real mad at us for a long time. But he's over it now."
     "So, what'cha gonna do if Billy has to leave town for some reason? Call Lonnie?"
     "I don't know. I guess," Mary Jo said with a shrug.
     Tami shook her head in wonder. "By the way, you're not drinking anymore, are you?"
     "Not a drop!"
     "Good. I really worried about you when you told me you were honky tonk'n every night and getting so drunk that you couldn't remember who you wound up sleeping with."
     "Well, those days are gone. I'm a workin' girl now, I got me a steady boyfriend, and I'm gonna have a baby. Now, stop being so serious," Mary Jo said, playfully yanking Tami's hair. Tami yanked Mary Jo's hair, and the girls hit and pushed each other playfully, all the while giggling like schoolgirls.
*
     Sipping a beer, Billy weaved his pickup truck through the deserted downtown business area of Bingham. He wasn't completely loaded, but he was on his way. As he passed Fondue's Music Store, he noticed the new Layla Model Eric Clapton guitar in the front display window, and screeched to a stop. The more he looked, the more he had to have it. He perused the deserted street and, seeing no one, got out of his pickup holding a few tools. He disabled the Impenetrable Devo Jones Burglar Alarm" invented by Devo Jones, the owner of the largest hardware store in town-in twenty seconds. He then picked the front door lock in fifteen seconds, and "borrowed" the guitar, as he rationalized to himself. Then he drove to the convenience store to show Mary Jo his new guitar.
     As he pulled into the parking lot, he didn't see Sheriff Tyler Pickett's police car on the other side of an SUV at the far end. He screeched his pickup to a stop in front of the store, beeped his horn, and waved at Mary Jo and Tami inside.
     Mary Jo and Tami smiled and waved back.
     Good-natured, but no one to mess with, Sheriff Luther Pickett shook his head and looked on in dismay as Billy staggered into the store carrying the guitar.
     "Hey, good-lookin', what'cha got there?" Mary Jo shouted, as Billy entered the store.
     "Got me a new guitar." Billy assumed a rock 'n' roll stance and played a few chords on the guitar. Both Mary Jo and Tami could tell he was drunk.
     "Boy! That's some guitar. Looks like it cost a lot of money," Mary Jo said.
     "Yeah, but I got a fantastic deal on it."
     "Hey, hey, Billy," Tami said.
     Billy squinted his eyes and studied Tami. "Is that you, Tami?"
     "It's me all right, Billy."
     "Hey, hey, Tami. I didn't recognize you at first, dressed up in those fancy clothes and all. Looks like you lost some weight? Yeah, you don't look as fat."
     "Gee thanks, Billy," Tami said with an edge. "I'm glad you noticed that I'm not as fat as I used to be."
     "You're welcome, Tami."
     "You look the same, Billy…drunk."
     Mary Jo grimaced and pulled at Tami's arm.
     "Hey, ease up, Tami," Billy stammered. "It's Friday night. Everybody gets drunk on Friday night, don't they?" He zigzagged over to the fridge, pulled out a six-pack, zigzagged back to the girls, and put his money on the counter.
     Mary Jo rang it up and gave Billy his change. "Thank you, sir."
     "You're entirely welcome, ma'am."
     "Mary Jo's got somethin' important to tell you, Billy," Tami said.
     "Well, let's hear it, baby," Billy said.
     "You just said the magic word, Billy," Mary Jo replied.
     "What magic word is that?"
     "Baby's the word. I'm pregnant. I'm gonna have a baby."
     Taken aback, Billy just stared at Mary Jo.
     "Well, say something before I take the gun from under the counter and shoot you in your you-know-what!"
     "Well, ah...congratulations. Who's the daddy?"
     "You know damn well who! You're the daddy! You sonofabitch!"
     "You sure about that?" Billy asked, teasing Mary Jo with a cutesy smile.
     "Damn sure!" Mary Jo shouted, starting to climb over the counter.
     "So when are you two gettin' married?" Tami asked, holding onto Mary Jo.
     "Well, if I'm the daddy, I guess one kind'a goes with the other, don't it?"
     "Sure does, Billy," Mary Jo snapped.
     "I never thought about being a daddy before. But, you know, I kind'a like the idea. Oh, what the hell. I'll marry you, Mary Jo."
     "Gee, thanks, Billy. You really know how to make a girl feel good."
     "Okay. Will you marry me?" Billy asked, getting down on one knee.
     "Damn right I will. When?"
     "Well now, that's another story." Billy smiled, got up, and swaggered out the door. Tami held on to Mary Jo, who was halfway over the counter, and finally calmed her down as customers began to enter. The store suddenly became crowded and Mary Jo was too busy to talk. Tami walked outside to see what was going on with Billy.
     Outside, Billy stood in the back of his pickup, leaning against the cab for balance, playing his guitar and singing. People gathered on their way to the convenience store. There was no denying Billy could really play the guitar, even though it wasn't amplified. The audience now included Sheriff Pickett.
     "Wrote any new songs lately, Billy?" the sheriff asked.
     "I'm always writin' new songs. You wanna hear my latest, sheriff?"
     "Sure do. What's it called?"
     "It's called 'What's My Suitcase Doin' Outside The Front Door'?"
     "Great title," the lanky sheriff replied.
     "Thanks, sheriff."
     Billy almost fell out of the pickup a few times as he played and sang his new song, but everyone helped keep him from falling out. Everyone laughed at the words and when Billy finished they all applauded, including Tami. She realized that Billy was very talented, but it wouldn't do him any good because of his drinking. It really bothered her because not everyone was blessed with his talent, and she knew he was wasting it. She also knew that Mary Jo was going to have a miserable life married to Billy. If he married her, that is. She wondered if just having the baby without marrying Billy might not be a better option.
     About then, a car drove into the parking lot. A man got out, walked toward the store entrance, glanced at Billy's guitar curiously, stopped, and then walked to a nearby telephone. The man talked on the phone for a bit, hung up, and then walked over to Sheriff Pickett and motioned him aside.
     "Hi, Fondue. What's up?" the sheriff asked.
     "I was on my way home from the Mason's Lodge and thought I'd pick up some ice cream for the kids."
     "So? You want me to follow you home to make sure no one steals it?" the sheriff laughed.
     "Under different circumstances I'd laugh, too. But right now I want to know if you're on duty."
     "Of course I'm on duty. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
     "Well, someone broke in and stole a guitar from my store."
     "I'll get right over there."
     "No need. The man who robbed it is playing it right in front of you."
     "Aw, no, not Billy? Are you sure?"
     "I'm sure, sheriff. It's the only Layla Model Eric Clapton guitar in town."
     "I wondered where he got that new guitar. Damn it, he's on probation! He may have to do some time for this."
     "Yeah, it's too bad. Do what you have to, sheriff."
     The sheriff nodded and walked back over to Billy's pickup. "Okay, everyone, let's break it up, the show's over." The crowd quickly dispersed, some going into the store while others took off. "Okay, Billy, get on down from there." The sheriff helped Billy off the pickup, and then held on to him so he wouldn't fall as they zigzagged toward the police car. He helped Billy into the back seat and then locked the door. Still watching, Tami shook her head and walked back inside the store to tell Mary Jo the bad news.
     "Hey, it's nice of you to drive me home, sheriff. I am kind'a drunk."
     "My pleasure, Billy. How about singing me a song while we drive?"
     "What'cha wanna hear, sheriff?"
     "Play me some of that old 'Wabash Cannonball,' will you, Billy?"
     "You got it, sheriff."
     As they drove, Sheriff Pickett and Billy sang together:

          This train, she runs to Memphis, Mattoon, and Mexico
          She rolls through East St. Louis and she never does it slow
          As she flies through Colorado, she gives an awful squall
          They tell her by the whistle, the Wabash Cannonball

          Now here's to Daddy Claxton, may his name forever stand
          He'll always be remembered, through the courts throughout the land
          His earthly race is over, now the curtain round him falls
          He's on his way to paradise on the Wabash Cannonball
*
     Lonnie visited Billy several times while Billy was in jail, and on Billy's request, visited him the day of his sentencing. Although they had moved in different circles for a few years, on occasion Billy and Lonnie would still hang out, get drunk, and raise a little hell. Desire, drive, saving his money, and getting an education had paid off big time for Lonnie. After graduating Bingham High, and going on to business college for a year in Oklahoma City, he now owned his own thriving enterprise in Bingham-"Lonnie's Peekaboo Adult Book Store." It was the only one in town and he was making money just as he thought he would.
     "I stopped by your folks' house, like you asked, Billy, so's I could drive 'em here, but they said they couldn't make it."
     "Damn! I was hopin' they'd come. Will you tell Ma to look after my room while I'm gone?"
     "I hate to tell you this, Billy, but she put a 'Room For Rent' sign up in front of the house, and put your clothes and guitar in the shed out back next to the chicken coop."
     "What! It gets hot as hell out there! My acoustic guitar's gonna warp! Look, Lonnie, I want you to get it and keep it at your place until I can figure out what to do with it. Okay?"
     "No problem, I'll take care of it. You worried about doin' time at Bingham?"
     "No way. I can do time standing on my head. By the way, how's things goin' at the bookstore?"
     "Pretty good. I'm making a lot of money."
     "I'm happy to hear that because I'd like you to do me a favor."
     "Sure, what's that?"
     "I'd like you to keep an eye on Mary Jo while I'm in the slammer. Help her out if she can't make the rent sometimes, or if she needs a few extra bucks. I told her to call you if she needs anything, okay?"
     "No problem. I'd be glad to help."
     "Thanks. Now, one other thing, I know you used to be Mary Jo's boyfriend before me, but it's different now, ya see...she's gonna have my baby."
     "What? I didn't know she was pregnant! She sure doesn't look it. How far along is she?"
     "Almost three months. So I don't want no hanky-panky while I'm gone."
     "Hey! What kind of a guy do you think I am? We're cousins; we're blood. I'm surprised you'd even think I'd do something like that. Especially, since she's pregnant."
     Billy studied Lonnie and thought about his own indiscretion with Mary Jo when Lonnie was going with her, and wondered.
     "You gotta go, Lonnie," the guard said, walking up to the cell. "Judge Snead is ready for Billy."
     "Well, ol' buddy, you take care," Lonnie said.
     "You, too." Lonnie and Billy embraced and shook hands, and then Lonnie walked back to the courtroom.
     In the courtroom, Mary Jo, Tami, Lonnie, Virgil, and Clyde, Booker, and Sonny, Billy's band members, waved at him as he entered. Billy smiled and waved back. Many people loved him in spite of his wildness and had come to wish him farewell. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that indeed the time had finally come.
     Everyone stood as stubby Judge Robert E. Snead, wearing his usual crooked, red-orange toupee, walked into the courtroom. Once seated, the judge slammed his gavel, looked at Billy, and shook his head. "Billy, I told you the last time you were here that if you came before me one more time, I'd have to send you to Bingham Penitentiary. I really hate to do this for a couple of reasons. First, you're really a nice person, but you just won't grow up! Unfortunately, you'll grow up real fast at Bingham. Second, you're the only mechanic in town who knows how to fix my car."
     "Virgil can fix your car wearin' a blindfold, your Honor."
     "Well, personally, that's how I think he does it."
     The people in the courtroom giggled. Virgil frowned. He had sabotaged the judge's car in various ways when he repaired it--he'd make it run perfectly for a while and then it would either stop or sputter, or start smoking, or the windshield wipers would come on, or the horn would start blowing. Eventually, the judge told Virgil that if he didn't let Billy fix the car, he might get the fire and health department back after him.
     "Ah, yes, Virgil Bilbo," Judge Snead said, eyeing Virgil. "One of our town's most upstanding citizens. Well, I have to admit, in Virgil's defense, he hasn't been in jail for years. How are you doing, Virgil?"
     Virgil grimaced and forced a few nods of his head.
     "Well, Billy, it's time. Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?"
     "Like I said before, your honor, I just borrowed the guitar. I was gonna return it the next day, honest."
     "Maybe you were, Billy, but unfortunately that isn't the way things are done around here. Anything else you want to say?"
     "No."
     "In that case, weighing the fact that you're still on probation for drunk and disorderly, for the fifth time may I add, with previous arrests for assault and battery, car theft and refusing to stop for the police and then mooning them when you were finally caught, and an assortment of unpaid traffic tickets, oh yes, and urinating on the magnolias in front of City Hall, I sentence you to three years at Bingham Penitentiary. Officer, take him away."
     "Oh, no!" Mary Jo sobbed. "Billy! Billy! I love you!"
     As the guard walked Billy toward the side door, Billy waved at Mary Jo, who was being comforted by Tami. Billy then nodded at Lonnie, Virgil, Clyde, Booker, and Sonny before being led back to his cell by the guard.

*
     Rugged-looking Jesse "The Whiz" Manners, now thirty-five and still one of the state's most notable and recognizable celebrities-although it had been fifteen years since he scored that unforgettable winning touchdown-drove his car into his parking space in front of the Juvenile Justice Building in Oklahoma City. Inside, he walked toward his office as Juvenile Justice Administrator for Oklahoma City amid greetings of, "Good morning, Jesse," and "Hi, Jesse." Everyone called him Jesse: little kids, old people, women, and even anyone new who met him. Jesse wasn't a formal type of person and he liked it that way; he often said that anyone who called him Mr. Manners was usually the bearer of bad news.
     Jesse stood 6'2", had sharp features, a bronze complexion, and straight, jet-black hair. His parents had told him he was of French, English and Irish ancestry, and that his great-grandfather was a full-blooded Cherokee.
     Jesse had a good early upbringing, but both his parents were tragically killed in a car accident when he was only eight years old. Since there were no other relatives he could live with, he was put into the system and raised by foster parents. He was big for his age, and in his early teens began hanging out with older boys. Jesse was very trusting, perhaps too much so, and the group he hung out with got him into serious trouble with the police.
     He was then placed into a foster home that was monitored and counseled by volunteer police officers who encouraged physical activity and sports. Jesse liked sports and pursued track and football with police encouragement and direction. He became a star athlete in high school and received a football scholarship to State, where he became an all-American, helped win a national championship, and married the homecoming queen, Bonnie Parker.
     Jesse had maintained his athletic physique with a short daily workout. However, his running days were a thing of the past. Ten years earlier, a car driven by a teenager fleeing the scene of a crime smashed into Jesse's car. Jesse had to have pins inserted in his left leg, which left him unable to run and ended his five-year pro football career. Fans, and most of the people in the state, were outraged that a youthful criminal had put an end to Jesse's glowing career. Ironically, the accident had been the catalyst behind Jesse becoming involved with juvenile crime.
*
     Jesse sat in his office talking to two teenagers. "Okay, Benny. Tell me you got a job so I can cut you loose from probation."
     "I got a job in a veterinary clinic."
     "Doin' what?" Jesse asked.
     "Well, when I was on the farm, a woman vet brought in some dogs and cats once a week and taught us how to cut their nails and groom them. I didn't realize how much I liked animals. Anyhow, I learned how to groom the dogs real good. The cats, now that's another story. Check this out." Benny unbuttoned his shirtsleeves and pulled them up exposing several cuts and scratches on his arms.
     "It looks like dangerous work," Jesse teased.
     "Yeah, but I'm tough," Benny said, posturing with a smile.
     "I know you're tough, but now you're smart, too. Congratulations."
     "Thanks, Jesse."
     "How about you, Jorge?"
     "I finally graduated from your Learn Security Pilot Program for high school dropouts. I landed a job with a company called Security Management. The pay is real good and I even have medical insurance."
     "That's great! I really have to hand it to both of you. It took a while, but you came through for me, and, more importantly, for yourselves."
     "Thanks for the shot, Jesse," Jorge said. "If it weren't for you goin' to bat for me, I'd still be hiding from security cameras instead of putting them in. And don't worry. I'm not going to let you down."
     "Same here," Benny added.
     "Well, don't forget, if you have any problems call me. And I mean before you get in a jam, not after."
     "Don't worry, I will," Benny said.
     "Me, too," Jorge echoed.
     "Bring in your check stubs in a couple of weeks. That'll be the formal end of your probation, okay?"
     "You got it," Benny answered.
     "For sure," Jorge said.
     Jesse shook hands with both boys before they left.
*
     As Jesse drove home from work later in the day, he sang along with the radio, as he always did. He loved to sing. It was a release, but it was also a lot of fun. He'd been singing along with the radio ever since he was a kid.
     He reached his beautiful hacienda-style home in the suburbs and pulled into the driveway. He sat there a few minutes thinking how good he had it, how lucky he was. He had it all: a great job as Juvenile Programs Director for Oklahoma City -which he liked-a beautiful, television news anchor wife, and was financially secure. Unfortunately, he also had a father-in-law he disliked, who happened to be the Lt. Governor of the State, Smilin' Jack Parker.
     Jesse got out of the car, and, as he walked toward the house, was surprised to hear rock 'n' roll music coming from inside-his wife, Bonnie, always played loud music when she got ready for work. He looked at his watch and saw she was leaving much earlier than usual. He figured something big had come up and that she had to get to the TV studio as soon as she could. When he entered the house, he found Bonnie frantically putting on her makeup in front of the living room mirror. He turned off the radio, walked over to Bonnie, and kissed her on the cheek.
     "Ooooh! Why did you turn off the music, sweetheart?"
     "So I can talk to you without shouting. So, what's the big news today?"
     "There's been an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. It just happened in the last hour. They want me at the station right away. Watch me on TV and I'll tell you all about it."
     "Will do."
     "By the way, Dad called and wants to talk to you about a job."
     "What's he talkin' about? I have a job."
     "I know, baby. But you work too hard. You can't save every kid in the city."
     "I can try. Did your father say what the job was?"
     "No, he didn't."
     "The problem is that if I took the job I'd be obligated to Jack. And I don't want that! Your father's a crook. Who the hell knows what he wants from me."
     "He's not a crook! He's the lieutenant governor of the state!"
     "So? He's a big crook."
     "I don't want to argue again; I have to get to work. Will you give him a call? He's called three times."
     "Okay, okay. It's against my better judgment, but I'll give him a call."
     "Are you going to the Sport's Bar this Sunday?"
     "You bet. The Rams are playing the 49ers. Wanna come?"
     "No. I'm not in the mood to watch a bunch of beer-drinking grownup men acting like high school kids screaming for over two hours, and then singing along with that country Karaoke machine for the rest of the afternoon."
     "You used to like it. In case you've forgotten, you were a hell-raisin' beer drinker yourself. In fact, all the wives have been askin' where you've been."
     "Say hi to the girls for me. Anyhow, I promised friends I'd attend a benefit for the Tancredi Opera Company Sunday. Actually, I was hoping you'd come with me."
     "You know I wouldn't go to something like that. I'd feel totally out of place. What's goin' on, Bonnie? Lately, it seems like we're moving in different directions."
     "Well, Daddy thinks we should be moving up the ladder. Actually, that's why I've begun attending some of these social functions. He can't understand why you want to stay where you're at, and to be honest, neither can I."
     "I knew it! I knew it! You've been listening to your father. You sound just like him. That sonofabitch has been brainwashing you ever since your mother died last year. I think he's got some kind of ulterior motive."
     "No, he hasn't! We just happen to think a lot alike."
     "No, you don't! He's just keeps telling you that you do."
     "I don't want to argue anymore! I'm sick and tired of being in the middle!"
     Jesse picked up the mail on the coffee table and looked through it. Finding nothing of importance he put it down again. "Doesn't it bother you that we only see each other for an hour before you go to work, and then only after midnight?"
     "I can't help it if they asked me to anchor the evening and late news."
     "Can't you ask to be put back on the afternoon news? I'm starting to feel like we're strangers."
     "Things will work out, darling. Don't worry about it." Bonnie kissed him on the cheek and hurried toward the door. He walked to the window and watched her as she walked to her car. It still turned him on just to look at her tall, well-built frame, her slinky walk, the way she always pulled at her short-cropped black hair when she went from doing one thing to another, and the fact that she was very sensual.
     Jesse had always overlooked her idiosyncrasies, like the fact that she could be self-centered, immature, vain, and flirty at times. As she drove away, he heard the loud rock 'n' roll music blasting from her car and then fading away. He shook his head, walked to the phone, and dialed a number. "Hello. This is Jesse Manners. I'm returning a call from Lt. Governor, Smilin' Jack Parker."
*
     Bonnie dreaded the day she'd see her first wrinkle and looked closely at her face in the mirror of her dressing room at KBBQ TV. Satisfied that this wasn't the day, she checked herself out in the full-length mirror, turning this way and that, and finally smiled. She was beautiful and she knew it. She felt quite pleased when the makeup girl entered and complimented her on her appearance.
     Shortly, the assistant director knocked on her door and shouted, "Five minutes."
     She thanked the makeup girl, picked up her script, and walked to the set. She sat down behind a large desk on the set next to the pompous, debonair, James Putter, her fellow commentator. They looked over their notes as the crew readied for the special newscast.
     "You look very nice today, Bonnie," James said, with a suave smile.
     "I always look good, James."
     "But today more so than usual."
     "I thought so, too. You're very perceptive, James." Both smirked at each other condescendingly.
     The stage manager announced, "Ready to go. Five seconds." He held up his hands and began counting down, "5-4-3-2-1." Then he pointed at James Putter.
     "Welcome to the KBBQ TV early evening news. I'm James Putter."
     "And I'm Bonnie Manners. There's been an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. So far an estimated 50,000 gallons of oil have oozed from a freighter into the Gulf. The cause of the leak is not known at this time. The spill has spread over a mile and the U.S.E.PA, the United States Environmental Protection Agency, is hurrying to the location at this very moment.      Environmentalists have also sent a group to monitor the incident. Now we are going to show you some footage taken from our KBBQ helicopter cam showing the actual spill."
     Back at home, Jesse looked at the black oil oozing from the freighter and the long oil slick on his TV set and shook his head. He turned off the TV and drove to the capitol building to meet with his father-in-law, Smilin' Jack Parker.
*
     The Parker name had been synonymous with Oklahoma politics for generations; Jack's grandfather had been mayor of Oklahoma City and his father had been a state senator.      However, the Parker name also carried a stigma amongst those who knew them well, one of deviousness. They were all distinguished-looking, polished, and educated. They had "the smile," and a knack for making crooked deals without being implicated. It was just in their nature. Although none of the Parkers were ever convicted of a crime, they had all been indicted at some point. They were all extremely glib and charming, especially Smilin' Jack Parker, who looked, acted, talked the part, and convinced the electorate that he was the most honest man alive. Like his father and grandfather before him, he had also graduated from State.
*
     As Jesse entered Jack Parker's outer office area he heard Jack shouting to his secretary over the intercom.
     "Did you deliver that letter to the governor's office yet?"
     "Not yet, sir."
     "Why the hell not?"
     "I just haven't had a chance. The relief girl hasn't shown up yet."
     "What! Well, when she does show up, go deliver the letter and then tell her she's fired. Got me?"
     "Yes, sir," the flustered secretary said, clicking off the intercom.
     Jesse walked up to the secretary's desk. Jesse didn't recognize the young woman, which was the norm since no one could really deal with Jack for very long. Of course, she was attractive. Jack only hired young, attractive secretaries.
     "Jesse Manners to see Lieutenant Governor Parker."
     The girl looked on her appointment sheet and then clicked on the intercom. "Jesse Manners to see you, sir."
     "Send him in. Send him," sang the lieutenant governor, happily.
     Jesse nodded to the secretary and walked into Jack's office.
     "Come in, Jesse. Good to see you," Jack said, flashing his famous exaggerated smile, which Jesse loathed, and then shook his hand, which Jesse loathed even more. Immaculately dressed, with perfectly groomed gray hair, Jack pointed toward a chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat. How's my famous son-in-law?"
     "Famous? That was years ago, Jack. Now I'm yesterday's news."
     "What are you talking about? No one will ever forget that game. We still talk about it at our alumni meetings. People all over the states still remember and talk about you. You're a legend! They also talk about that damn kid who smashed into your car and ruined your pro football career."
     "I don't think about it anymore, Jack. I've moved on with my life."
     "Yeah, trying to save the lives of screwed-up kids, like the one responsible for those metal pins in your leg. I don't get you, Jesse. That sonofabitch cost you. At least a twenty million dollar football career."
     "Hey, I played five years. I made some good money out of it and I'm happy with what I do. Now what did you want to talk to me about?"
     "Warden T.A. Bishop at Bingham Penitentiary is retiring."
     "So what's that got to do with me?"
     "I want you to take the job."
     Taken aback, Jesse looked at Jack dumbfounded, "Why me?"
     "Because you'd be perfect. You have all the qualifications. You graduated college with a degree in public relations; you have the experience in administration, training, and rehabilitation in a criminal environment. That's all you need. You'd be stepping up from Juvenile Programs Director of the city to warden of the biggest prison in the state. It's a natural progression."
     Jesse contemplated the offer for a few moments. "You could say that, but I like dealing with kids."
     "So, you'd be dealing with big kids. Another thing, the irony; since you almost wound up in Bingham Penitentiary when you were a teenager, you now go there as the warden-people will love the story."
     "You just won't let me forget that, will you, Jack? That was twenty years ago. So I was in with the wrong crowd."
     "Who just happened to rob a bank."
     "How many times do I have to tell you; I was just the damn driver! They said they were going in to cash a check and I believed them!"
     "Take it easy, Jesse, take it easy."
     "You're no angel either, Jack! Have you forgotten that the attorney general indicted you for stealing three million dollars from the state."
     "I beat them in court, didn't I?" Jack exclaimed, an indignant look on his face. "It was just some of my enemies trying to besmirch my good name!"
     "Give me a break. You just got lucky."
Jack grimaced, but ignored the remark. "There's another reason I want you to take the job."
     "Wait a minute," Jesse said with a sly smile. "Let me guess. You want me to take the job so when you and your cronies wind up in prison, I'll make sure you get conjugal visits."
     "No, no, no, nothing like that! Look, here's the reason. Next year I'm going to run for governor; I'll be announcing my intentions soon. And I want you to run for lieutenant governor on my ticket."
     "What? First you want me to be warden and now you want me to be lieutenant governor? I don't know anything about politics."
     "You don't have to know anything. Half the politicians in the country don't know what the hell they're doing. Look, there isn't much you'd have to do. As lieutenant governor you'd be President of the State Senate, and you'd also preside over the State Legislature."
     "I wouldn't know what to do."
     "All you have to do is hit a gavel and announce the opening and closing of the session."
     "Come on, Jack."
     "If there was anything you had trouble with, all you'd have to do is ask me. Face it. I've been lieutenant governor for three years now."
     "What else would I be involved in?"
     "You'd also be in charge of the state's tourism, and any movies that were shot here in the state, and you'd be involved with the Native American Cultural and Educational Authority. That should interest you. Maybe you could get some scholarships for some of the disadvantaged Indians, or some of those brain-dead kids you deal with. To be honest, I don't think I'd get elected if I didn't have you on the ticket. You're a hero in this state, a football icon. Everyone knows and respects you for what you've done with those dumb-ass kids. However, it would look better if you took the job as warden because it would show that you're a real law and order person. The voters love that. Your job as Juvenile Programs Director is a plus, but it doesn't give you enough importance. The position of warden will give you all the notoriety and prestige you need."
     "I don't know, Jack."
     "Look, you'd be making twice as much money as you're making now. Bonnie deserves a bigger house, a better car, and all the things that a job like that can bring."
     "Hey, she makes more money than you and I put together. Although, I don't know what you make on the side."
     "There you go again! You always infer that I'm some kind of crook. I'm a devoted servant of the people!" Jack said, posturing.
     "Sure you are," Jesse said with a patronizing smile. "However, I have to admit the job as warden does seem like a natural progression for me. I'll talk to Bonnie and see what she thinks about the warden job. However, as far as running on your ticket, forget it."
     "Well, before you completely turn it down, I want to tell you something that hasn't entered your mind yet." Jack flashed one of his phony Smilin' Jack Parker smiles. "If I drop dead, you'd be the governor."
     "Now that really tweaks my interest!" Jesse exclaimed, with a big smile.
     "I thought it would," Jack smirked. "I told Bonnie about your running for public office with me and she was thrilled."
     "Now I know why you've been calling her so often recently. You're trying to manipulate her into getting me to run for lieutenant governor. I want you to stop calling her! You call her every day and see her at least three times a week. I want it to stop."
     "I only do that because she misses her mother," Jack said, a hurt look on his face. "I just wanted to help her through her grief."
     "Don't give me that phony look of compassion. Your wife's only been dead a year and you've already banged half the women in the capitol building. Everybody knows it. The mourning is over, Jack. I want you to leave Bonnie alone! I'm not going to run for lieutenant governor, and that's the end of it!" Jesse stood, gave Jack an intimidating look, and left.
     Jack smiled confidently, that's what you think...."