A Walk in the Woods

boots, but really he was just sitting watching the world go by and dreamily enjoying the
sunshine. He greeted me warmly. Katz was always a new man in town.
"Good lord, look at you!" he cried, delighted at my grubbiness. "What have you been
doing? You re filthy." He looked me up and down admiringly, then said in a more solemn
tone: "You haven't been screwing hogs again, have you, Bryson?"
"Ha ha ha."
"They're not clean animals, you know, no matter how attractive they may look after a
month on the trail. And don't forget we're not in Tennessee anymore. It's probably not
even legal here--at least not without a note from the vet." He patted the chair beside him,
beaming all over, happy with his quips. "Come and sit down and tell me all about it. So
what was her name--Bossy?" He leaned closely and confidentially. "Did she squeal a lot?"
I sat in the chair. "You're only jealous."
"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm not. I made a friend of my own today. At the
laundromat. Her name's Beulah."
"Beulah? You're joking."
"I may wish I was, but it's a fact."
"Nobody's named Beulah."
"Well, she is. And real nice, too. Not real smart, but real nice, with cute little dimples
just here." He poked his cheeks to show me where. "And she has a terrific body."
"Oh, yes?"
He nodded. "Of course," he added judiciously, "it's buried under 220 pounds of
wobbling fat. Fortunately I don't mind size in a woman as long as, you know, you don't
have to remove a wall or anything to get her out of the house." He gave his boot a
thoughtful swipe.
"So how did you meet her?"
"As a matter of fact," he said, sitting forward keenly, as if this was a story worth telling,
"she asked me to come and look at her panties."
I nodded. "Of course."
"They'd got caught in the washing machine agitator," he explained.
"And was she wearing them at the time? You said she wasn't real smart."
"No, she was washing them and the elastic got stuck in the spindle thing and she asked
me to come and help extract them. Big panties," he added thoughtfully, and fell into a
brief reverie at the memory of it, then continued:. "I got 'em out, but they were shredded
all to hell, so I said, kind of droll like, 'Well, miss, I sure hope you've got another pair,
because these are shredded all to hell.' "
"Oh, Stephen, the wit."
"It'll do for Waynesboro, believe me. And she said--now here's the thing, my grubby,
hog-humping friend--she said, 'Well, wouldn't you like to know, honey.' " He made his
eyebrows bounce. "I'm meeting her at seven outside the fire station."
"What, she keeps her spare underpants there?"
He gave me an exasperated look. "No, it's just a place to meet. We're going to Pappa
John's Pizza for dinner. And then, with any luck, we'll do what you've been doing all day.
Only I won't have to climb a fence and lure her with alfalfa. Well, I hope not anyway. Hey,
look at this," he said, and reached down to a paper bag at his feet. He brought out a pair