Are you okay, Mrs. Donna Jean?
“I’m better’n okay, sugar. Momma got her load on.”
Wonderful. Glad you got away from Harvey.
“Harvey. Yeah. Okay. Sugar, I got a l’il secret for you.”
“Harvey wasn’t so special. They was all like that. Every. Single. One.”
“‘Oh?’ That’s all you got?”
Your hair looks nice.
“Bless your heart.”
The trunk. Jesus, the trunk. There is neither floor nor ceiling to the Bush League that the Grateful Dead occupied.