Tex and I rode the straight road south with a shaggy haired driver in a tight green shirt. Tex leaned over from the back seat. “We’re pretty hungry. Can you give us those food stamps on your dash?”
“I guess so” The driver’s voice quavered. He braked a little too close to the car in front of us. Then he lifted his head to look in the rear view mirror. “Maybe if you go swimming with me?”
“We need the food stamps,” said Tex.