The Right to Sing the Blues
“—Lord Byron Don Juan Why should the devil have all the good tunes? —Rowland Hill Sermons I udger belched and said, “ ‘S’cuse me.” “You want some more coffee, Nudge?” Danny asked, pausing as he wiped down the stainless-steel counter with the grayish towel he usually kept tucked in his belt. He looked over at Nudger with his somber basset-hound eyes, concerned eyes. “Maybe it’d help to settle your stomach.” Maybe it would eat a hole through my entire digestive tract, Nudger thought. But he said, ...“No, thanks, Danny,” and thumbed back the foil on a roll of antacid tablets. He popped one of the chalky white disks into his mouth and gazed down at what was left of his Danny’s Dunker Delite before him on the counter. He was eating breakfast at Danny’s Donuts because Danny would let him postpone payment indefinitely. For this Nudger was grateful. But he had braved a Dunker Delite four mornings in a row now, and he was afraid that if this culinary daring continued, he’d begin to look like one of the formidable specials served at Danny’s Donuts; he might become as round and polysaturated as a Dunker Delite, and not nearly so hard.MoreLess
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