Push, Nevada
Color Of Money

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Oh, they're shoveling it, all right

Taudrey stands alone at the outskirts of funeraldom, Jim approaching and bidding her a good morning. Isn't it, though? She's distraught. She asks him if might happen to have another handkerchief, and he produces a twin monogrammed hankie and makes the loaded observation, "I didn't know you and Silas were close." Taudrey overenunciates each and every letter of her one line, "It's a small town. One gets to know most everyone." Jim asks once after Oswald Wilkes. Oh, wait! Oswald killed Kennedy! Wilkes killed Lincoln! Has this already hit the forums? If not, I'm the smartest. And Bodnick killed McKinley. There you go. A Brief History Of America. Either way, Taudrey ignores his question completely and poses one of her own: "Do you always carry two handkerchiefs?" Jim's got his answer at the ready: "Three, actually." Wow. That's a lot of snot, right there. But he explains his reasoning -- "my father taught me…always monogrammed, always pressed" -- and we cut back to a Ye Olde Dad flashback in the car, Ye Olde Dad himself explaining, "Sign of a gentleman. And you can never tell when one might come back to you." Back in the present, Taudrey attempts to return it to Jim because, in reality, other people's handkerchiefs suffer from the drawback of being filled with other people's snot, but he declines to take it. He keeps digging: "You never told me your last name." Coy, this one is. She doesn't take the bait, turning on the line, "I'll see you around, Jim Prufrock." He turns orange with embarrassment. Shadrack pushes his Loony Bin into the frame for no reason. Jim walks to his car and finds a flat. He gazes at the trunk and visualizes a zany, red-drenched shot of a spare tire inside it. But his reverie of his one Goodyear is broken by the blaring horn of Hick's truck (I told y'all last week, they just loooove pulling on that damn cord-chain thing), who pulls up and asks if Jim has a spare. Jim lies, apparently, and says he does not, hopping in the truck because the script says it's time for him to do so.

Truck, interior. Jim sits in the passenger seat, Trash sitting on his lap because there's no room to sit somewhere over the other fourteen wheels somewhere. She asks Jim if he likes the pictures, and he explains that he saw them the last time his car broke down in the desert. As Hick vamps about how the heat "will kill a man," Jim's eyes wander around the dashboard and come to rest on a handwritten sheet of truck deliveries, followed by dollar figures. Each of the deliveries is listed to "Versailles." Oh, my God. Do you think it's possible the casino might be involved in this crazy, mixed-up plot somehow? Speechless!

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Push, Nevada

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