“Why’d you bring that old piece of junk in here?”
“Piece of junk? I’ll have you know that’s a 1947 Rock-Ola 1426. It’s an art deco beauty. It’s not a piece of junk. It’s a piece of art.”
“Does it work?”
“Not yet.”
“Then it’s a piece of junk.”
“It’s worth a fortune. It’s a classic. Not only that, it’s fully loaded with vintage records.”
“Anything from the sixties?”
“Not a one of them past the year of 1956.”
“Like I said: piece of junk. Where’d you get it?”
“Bob’s Salvage Yard.”
“Which is just another word for junkyard, so it really and truly is a bona fide piece of junk.”
“I’m going to fix it up. It wasn’t damaged by the fire or the water, just some smoke damage. All I’ve got to do is take it all apart, clean everything, and put it all back together again.”
“Where did Bob get it from?”
“That old juke joint that burned down before I was even born. The Dewdrop Inn.”
“The Dewdrop Inn? But that’s where your daddy…”
“Where our daddy what, sis? We both know that our father never touched a drop of alcohol. He would have never stepped foot in that place.”
“Daddy changed a lot after you were born. He was a lot older than mama. Mama used to work in that place as a waitress right up until she got pregnant with you.”
“Why’d she stop working there?”
“Like you said. The place burned down. Daddy didn’t want her working there to begin with. Mama wouldn’t have wanted to go back anyhow. The fella that burnt up in the fire was a friend of hers. Real handsome, they say. Had a dimpled chin just like Kirk Douglas. Or like you.”
“Wait a minute… Are you trying to say…? Now, I always knew that you were dad’s favorite, but that doesn’t mean you have to make up a story to write me out of the picture entirely. Our mother was a saint. There’s no way that….”
“…your cheatin’ heart…will give you away…” groaned out of the jukebox before it flicked off as suddenly as it had flicked on.
“I thought you said it didn’t work?”
“It doesn’t. It isn’t even plugged in.”
Literature in Small Doses 