Globusz^® Publishing 

“Sonny, I told ya those college girls weren’t gonna have anything to do with us.”

“Yeah...well, Tim, if you’da kept yer mouth shut, they woulda never known.”

“Sorry. She just caught me off guard when she asked what I was majorin’ in, and it sorta just slipped out.”

“A shame. They drank half our beer but loved my birthday present from Daddy.”

“Big surprise: Who wouldn’t love a candy red T-Bird?”

“Gimme another beer.”

“Last two, man. I told you a case of suds wouldn’t last all day. I’ve got a wonderful buzz goin’ and the night’s young.”

“Let’s get some more. Sound like a plan?”

“A, wha... Nobody’s gonna sell us beer here in Athens. Let’s get another case from your Dad’s basement.”

“Why don’t you time us, huh? Let’s see a new record back to Washington.”

“You’re on. But remember...you need to slow down in Lexington.”

“Yeah, for sure. Deputy Fife thinks he’s Buford T. Justice.”

As they left Lexington, Sonny asked: “How’s our time?”

No answer.

“Tim! How are we doing? Are you asleep?” Jesus, he’s passed out — Sonny has thought. Great! Well, I wanted to go see Bonnie anyway.

Realizing there was no reason to slow down so close to home, he stepped on the accelerator and watched for any incoming traffic on the side streets. His attention wrapped up the new sign for the Washington Apple Orchard. When his eye again concentrated on the road, his headlights caught a glimpse of something in his lane. He turned sharply to miss the hesitant individual with no concern for his safety, the car fishtailed and almost rolled over. He then realized: Oh my God! It was a bicycle!

The bike and rider had hit the side of his car, bouncing hard the rider and the bicycle into the ditch. He quickly stopped and ran to see what could be done. It was a little girl on a bicycle, the bent frame now wrapped around her legs. He knew it must be painful. He knew too he shouldn’t move her.

He climbed the bank on the other side of the ditch and slid down slowly to see if he could help, while, of course, not moving her. When in position, he saw the most gruesome sight, as half of her face was missing. He vomited uncontrollably at what lie before him. Without warning, his knees gave way and he collapsed unconscious in the ditch next to her still body.

Out in the open for a good thirty minutes, he staggered back to the car. No longer drunk he was only scared. He screamed out loud: “What I’m going to do? I’ve got to find Daddy! Daddy will know what to do, but first I’ve got to take Tim home. Thank Heaven, Tim is still out of it and doesn’t have a clue.”

He drove to Tim’s house and parked in the street, quickly got out and made it to the passenger side of the car, opened the door and shook Tim from side to side.

“Wake up! Come on! Wake up! Get out. I’m going to Bonnie’s!”

“What about the beer?” —Tim managed to say.

“We’ll get it tomorrow. Hit the rack and go to sleep.”

“Okay! Twist my arm!”

Sonny drove home as quickly as he could without breaking any speed laws or doing anything reckless that might cause a policeman to look his way. He got home safely, ran into the house and flipped the light on in his Dad’s bedroom without any concern for the time of night: “Daddy! I’m in trouble.”

His father took few moments to wake up, realized it was his son, then reacted to the strong light and covered his eyes with his hand and said: “What? What time is it? What are you talking about?”

“I hit a little girl on a bicycle, with my car.”

“How bad is it?”

“I...I think she’s dead.”

“Dead? Oh, my God! Go down to the living room and call Woodrow.”

“Our lawyer?”

“Yeah. Who do you think is going to get you out of this mess? Tell him to get his ass over here right now.”

“Where did it happen? Were you by yourself?”

“In front of Washington’s Apple Orchard. Tim was with me but he had two sheets to the wind from the beer and didn’t see a thing.”

“Where is he now?”

“I took him home and told him I was going to pick up Bonnie for a late date.”

“Good idea!”

“Is the car damaged?” —Sonny’s father said.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, let’s go and look.”

While they checked out the car in the garage, the lawyer drove up, cut his lights before coming to a stop and quietly got out and walked to the garage side entrance, lighted by the fluorescents inside, and stepped in: “What’s so important?”

“Sonny had an accident. He hit a little girl in Washington and we think he may have killed her. What can you do?”

“Did anybody see it?”

“I don’t think so” — Sonny interjected. “Tim was with me but he was out cold, Bud Light.”

“That’s good. What we need to do is find somebody to take the blame, otherwise the police are like hound dogs over an open case file.”

Boss Carter asked: “Anyone in mind?”

“No. Do you?”

“What about that drunk that has the son who’s always in trouble?” — Carter said.

“Coleman?”

“Yeah. That’s his name.”

“Does he still gamble a lot?”

“Yeah. I think he owes most everyone in the county.”

“Tomorrow go get all those markers and bring Mr. Coleman to my house. Sonny, you go pick up the teenager, nice and friendly like, let him drive your car around town, the hamburger joints and all.”

“My new car?”

“Yes, your new car. The one you killed the girl with, ah, dah! We need his fingerprints in the car, thank you very much. If we are going to get you out of trouble, you are going to have to do as I say. Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”