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“And what would that be?”
Co
Co
Co
Jodie pressed her hand against one cheek. “Co
Co
“I know,” Jodie answered. “But someone had to save him from his life of sin and degradation.”
“When was that?” Co
“When he was hanging around with you.”
Co
But it was best to put that out of his mind. She was John’s now, and she had a gigantic diamond ring on her finger to prove it.
“Jodie,” Co
She blushed. “I’d like that, Co
“That’s all that’s keeping you with this man? A bad accent?” Co
“Well, there’s also the tiny matter of money. I hate to admit it, Co
“What am I, chopped liver? I’ll get you anything-”
“You still living in that trailer park, Co
Co
“Still gambling away most of your spare dough?”
“Only when I feel lucky.”
“Still trying to pick up every chick who wanders into the bar?”
“Well…” He squirmed. “Certainly not every chick.”
She patted her husband’s hand. “I think I’ll stick with my Joh
After the salad course was served, Derwood Scott rose to the podium. Co
“It was only two,” Fitz hissed back. “You brought the third one on yourself. Actually, you brought them all on yourself.”
Co
“Not in the last half hour.”
“Then go soak your head.”
Derwood began the proceedings, which of course started with the introduction of every man in the audience wearing a green jacket. Champions ru
“Where does he think he is?” Co
The thank yous continued for at least ten more minutes. Then Derwood began a panegyric on the “special ambience” of the Masters tournament. “There are many golf tournaments,” he proclaimed, “but there is only one Masters. Here, beneath the shady reaches of the spreading magnolias, men from all walks of life can come together to remember a simpler time, a better time, and to engage in the sport of gentlemen throughout the world.”
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Co
“What is this thing, this grand endeavor we call golf?” Derwood continued. “Yes, it’s a game, but somehow, in the hands of the men in this room, it becomes something much more. It’s an exhibition of excellence, a playing field where men of good cheer can come together in the name of brotherhood.”
“Brotherhood?” Co
While Derwood droned on, the waiters began serving di
“What is this?” Co
John gave him another shaddup already glare. “It isn’t Spam. It’s baked ham.”
“Looks like Spam to me,” Co
John tried to ignore him. “Shhh.”
“It was invented by a guy up in Wi
John stopped, obviously torn between his desire to tell Co
“No,” Co
John rolled his eyes. “Spam is short for spiced ham. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I most certainly do. It was invented by Roy Spam.”
“I’m sure. And you probably think he made it from Silly Putty.”
“I’m telling you, I read about this in some scholarly journal.”
“Like what? The National Enquirer?”
With each rejoinder, their voices grew louder. Eventually, there were more people listening to the Spam debate than listening to Derwood.
“I’m telling you, this is something I know.”
“Right,” John said. “I remember in the third grade, you knew that babies came from overeating.”
“It was Roy Spam!”
“Baloney!”
Co
John’s eyes went wide. “You sorry little-“ He grabbed his own spoon and retaliated, sending a clump of potatoes back across the table. Co
Enraged, Co
At this point, Derwood was no longer able to ignore the disruption in the back of the room. “Excuse me,” he said, pounding his gavel. “If I could have your attention.”
Derwood didn’t get anyone’s attention. Co
“Excuse me!” Derwood said, pounding even louder than before. “Please come to order.”
From Co
Co
John nodded. “In the name of brotherhood.”
“Naturally.” Co
“People!” Derwood shouted, desperately trying to regain control. “We can’t do this! This is the Masters. The Masters! We must-”
He had more that he wanted to say, but what it was no one ever knew, because he stopped talking for good after the fistful of gravy splatted him in the face.