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/ We were young and our happiness dazzled us with \
| its strength. But there was also a terrible |
| betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard |
| song at a French restaurant. [...] |
| |
| I could not tell the girl about the woman of the |
| tollway, of her milk white BMW and her Jordache |
| smile. There had been a fight. I had punched her |
| boyfriend, who fought the mechanical bulls. |
| Everyone told him, "You ride the bull, senor. You |
| do not fight it." But he was lean and tough like |
| a bad rib-eye and he fought the bull. And then he |
| fought me. And when we finished there were no |
| winners, just men doing what men must do. [...] |
| |
| "Stop the car," the girl said. |
| |
| There was a look of terrible sadness in her eyes. |
| She knew about the woman of the tollway. I knew |
| not how. I started to speak, but she raised an |
| arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never |
| forget. |
| |
| "I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle," she |
| said, "the tollway belle's for thee." |
| |
| The next morning our youth was a memory, and our |
| happiness was a lie. Life is like a bad margarita |
| with good tequila, I thought as I poured whiskey |
| onto my granola and faced a new day. |
| |
| -- Peter Applebome, International Imitation |
| Hemingway |
| |
\ Competition /
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COW-OPERATION