Post on 06-Dec-2020
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Chapter1
Richwasn’tsurehowitcametohim-TheThought-thethoughttodriveouttotheBlackHillsofSouth
DakotaandblowupMountRushmore.SinceTheThoughthadsettledintohismid-50’sscleroticbrain,
hejustcouldn’tthinkofmuchelse.HewonderedifitbeganwithDeeBrown’s“BuryMyHeartat
WoundedKnee”thattorturedtomethathehadreadsome30yearsbeforeandthereadingofwhich
hadburroweditswayintohisshrivelinggrey-matterlikeatomatohorn-worm(heisItalianafterall)–
notthatBrownhimselfhadanythingtodowithTheThought,oritswormingways.No,itdefinitely
wasn’tJUSTBrown’staleofWhiteMan’smistreatmentoftheIndians,eventhoughonthinkingaboutit
Richdidrememberthatwhenhefinishedreadingsaidbookhedidceremoniouslythrowit-alaSandy
Koufax-acrossthelivingroomhewassittinginatthetimeinalittleoldfarmhouseinUpstateNewYork
andputalargeorsmallhole(hedidn’tremember)intheopposite150-yearoldgypsumandlathewall.
Butthatwas30yearsbefore.Itprobablywasfesteringallthattime,buthecouldn’tcomeupwiththe
precisemomentthateverythinghadcrystallizedintoit-TheThought.
ForthepastyearRichhadbeenconstructingscalemodelsofRushmore.Outofclay,plaster,wood,
foundobjects,haddonenumerouspaintingsofthemountain,madeakind-ofshrinetoitwithburning
candles,smallsagefirestopurifyhisapartment,andhadhadritualisticroastsofsmallrodentshe
caughtinhisHave-A-Hearttraps.Andotherthangoingtowork–hedidhavetopaytherent,heat,
taxes,etc.–Richhardlyeverlefthisone-roomcold-waterflatinthelittlevillagehenowlived
in.Hewasthinkingthathewas,subconsciously(ofcourse),becomingliketheRichardDreyfuscharacter
inSpielberg’s“CloseEncountersoftheThirdKind”,onlyheknewthat(unfortunatelyforRich’ssenseof
aesthetics)FrenchfilmdirectorFrancoisTruffaut-whoplayedascientistin“CloseEncounters…”–
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wouldnotbetheretogreethimatRushmore(hehaddiedyearsbefore),whenallofasuddenthedoor
flewopen.ItwasBill.BilltheLaughingBuddha.Richhadn’tseenhiminawhile;hisfriendofthelast
thousandlifetimes.
“Hey…,”Billsaysashetakesinthesights,twiddlinghisfingersandrockingonhisheelslikeatourist
perusingthesights.“Alittleobsessedarewe?”
Richlooksupathim(heiskneelingashetriestojoinTeddyRoosevelt’sfoam-coremustachetotheold
Prez’swoodenhead),“Yeah…so?”
“Ididn’tknowyouhadsuchasenseof…of…,”Billsays,lookingaroundandsmilingthroughhugechiclet
teeth.
“What!?SenseofWHAT!?saysRich,withhisnowdailyirritationnewlystoked.
“Idon’tknow…”laughsBill.
“Don’tlaugh,man!...What?Yougotsomethingtosayaboutthis?”andRichgestureshaphazardlytothe
varioushomagesthatfilltheroom.
“No…no…justthatIneversawitas…as…”
“Aswhat,man?”saysRichthroughgrittedyellowingteeth.
“Sublime…IneversawMountRushmoreassublimeasyou,apparently,do.”
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Richisworkedup.“ITisn’tsublime,Bill!…ITisridiculous!Thefuckingthingisridiculous!”
“Oh,“saysBill,lookingawayandtryingtosoundabsent-minded.
“It’sfull-blown,man!Full-blown!Full-blownfuckingridiculous!”
“Oh…OK,”saysBill,checkingoutthethree-foot-by-six-footplastermountainthatsitsinthemiddleof
theapartment,rightwhereRich’sfuton/bedusedtobe.
“AndI’mthinkingofdrivingouttherewithacarfullofexplosivesandblowingthefuckingthingto
smithereens,”saysRich,lookingupatBillasTeddyR’sstacherefusestoadheretohiswoodenface,
“…and,”hemutterstohimself,“IneedsomeepoxyinsteadofthisElmer’sshit!”
“Smithereens?Isn’tthatthenexttownover?”saysBill,chucklingtohimself.
RichstaresupatBill.“Trytobeliteral,OKBill?”
“I’llgiveitago…So,heregoes…WhydoyouwanttoblowupMountRushmore?”
“ForthefuckingIndians,man.”
“Whichones?”
“Allofem!Whattayoumean,whichones?”
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“Dotheyknowaboutyour…plans?”
“Naaaah…it’skarmic,man,justkarmic.”
“LikewiththeBuddha?Thatkindofkarmic?””
“Iguessso…We’rejustgonnadotothemwhattheydidtotheIndians.”
“Huh,WE’REgonna?...Huh…butthesearestoneheads,Rich,notpeople.AndbesidestheBuddha
doesn’tbelieveinrevengeofanykind.It’snotthedharma.”
“Karma?Dharma?Whogivesarat’sass!...Look,man,I’mgoin’,anddoyouwannagowithmeandblow
thefuckeruporwhat?”
Billthinksforamoment.Alongmoment.Then,smilingdownatRich,tellshim,“Sure…Why
not?...Alwaysgameforalittleroadtriptoblowupanationalmonument.”
RichjumpsupandpatsBill’sback.Heishappierthanhehasbeeninalongtime.Probablysincethelast
timehesawBill.“Great…butwe’llhavetogetsomesuppliesalongtheway.”
“Supplies.”
“Yeah…fireworks,propanetanks,fertilizer…andyeah,analarmclock.”
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“Fertilizer?Youmeanlikechickenshit?”
“Yeah,it’sveryexplosive.”
“Chickenshitisexplosive?”
“Yeah,that’swhatthatguyMcVeighused.”
“TheguyfromFleetwoodMac?”
“Idon’tknowthetownhecamefrom…Youknow,theguywhoblewupthatbuildinginOklahomaand
killedallthosepeople?”
“Oh,him…didn’ttheyexecutehimforthat?”
“Sure,”laughsRich,“butwe’renotgonnakillanybody,man,justblowupanationalmonument…You
know,Bill,likeyousaid,justsomestoneheads.”
Chapter2
BillandRichhadmet30yearsbeforeatamutualfriend’shouseinPeekskill,thelittlecityalongthe
HudsonRiverwhereRichcamefrom.Richhatedtheplace,butlikedtovisithisoldfriends.AndBillwasa
friendofafriendofthatparticularoldfriendthatRichhadgonetovisit.Onthatnow-fortuitousday,Bill
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mistookRichforsomeoneelsetheirmutualfriendhaddescribedandthoughthe,thatfriend,sounded
like“anasshole”–toputitinBill’sterms-andRichthoughtthatBillwas,thoughhumorous,somewhat
mentallydisturbed.Eventuallythehaltingconversationbetweenthemgotaroundto,asitoftendoes
withtwopeoplewhosharecertainanomaloustraits,theHutusandtheTutsisofRwanda(thiswasnot
particularlyprescient,eventhoughthisconversationdidtakeplacemanyyearsbeforetheHutus
slaughtered800,000Tutsisinonemonthinthe1990’s).
“Howdotheytellthedifference?”askedRich,asheplayedwithhisone-yearoldsonCloud,layingin
diapersonablanketbetweenthem.
“I’mnotsure,”saidBill.“MaybeIDcards?”
“IDcards?...SobeforeeitheraHutuoraTutsichopssomebody’sheadoff,theychecktheirIDcard?”
“Iguessso…Soundsfairtome.”
“Tome,too,”saidRich.“ButwhatifaTutsistealsaHutuIDcardandtriestopasshimselfoffasaHutu?”
“TheIDcardhasaphoto?”
“Aphoto…buttheylookalike,don’tthey?”
“YoumeanBlackpeople?”laughedBill.
“No…,”laughedRich,“THESEBlackpeople…itisn’tlikethere’sanydistinguishingcharacteristics
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betweenthem,isthere?…Onegrouparen’tpygmies,arethey?”
“I’mnotreallysure,”saidBill.
FromthisfirstencounterBillandRichslowlyformedalastingfriendship,bothfiguringthatan
uninformedconversationaboutHutusandTutsisonabalmysummerafternooninPeekskillwas
somehowkarmic.BillwasateacherinYonkers.TaughtEnglishtoBlackandHispanichighschoolers.Not
aneasygig,butonemadeeasierbyBill’sreputationasacrazy.Big,red-haired,Irish,Billwasa
visuallyimposingpresencetothestudents.Andhis“don’tgivemeanyshit”attitudecutshortany
behavioralproblemsintheirgestationstage.ShortlyafterBillandRichmet,Billmadetwomajor
decisionsastothedirectionhislifewouldtake.Onewastolookintobeinganadvertisingguy;theother,
aBuddhist.Rich,thoughanartist/painter,andlivingtheninthatlittleoldfarmhouseinUpstateNew
York–theonewherehehurled“BuryMyHeartAtWoundedKnee”againstthewall–workedcleaninga
bowlingalley.HehadnophoneandtheonlywaythatBillcouldreachhimwastocallthealley.And
eventhoughtherewasthedifficultyinmakingarrangementstogettogether…theydid.AndOften.
BillwouldshowupatRich’shouseunannounced,drivingupfromYonkersacoupledaysaweek(taking
offsickdaysfromschool)andtheywouldsitaroundlikebefore,onablanket,playingwiththediapered
Cloud,wholaybetweenthem,anddiscussBill’sdecisiontoabandonteachingwhilesmokinghundreds
ofcigarettesandeatingDevilDogs.SinceBillandRichbothdespisedadvertisingandBillwasdoingitto
revolutionizethateternallycompromisedworld–afterallhewasapoet–andRichwantedtohelphim
outwiththatendeavor,theycameupwithanunusual“campaign”forJoy,ahigh-endperfume,that
includedimagesfromAuschwitzandsomepithyquotesfromAdolfhimself.“Theideashouldgrab
people’sattentionrightaway,”BilltoldRich.Obviously,the“campaign”–thoughwell-thoughtoutand
withahigh-potentialforattention-grabbing–didn’tgetofftheground.“Itdidn’tfly,”BilltoldRich,
usingtheparlanceoftheadvertisingexecutivesattheYoungandRubicampagencywherehewastrying
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togetajob.IntheendBilldidn’treallycareallthatmuchanyway.Helookedatthewholethingasa
waytospendtimewithRich.
Buddhismwasanotherstory.AndBilltookseriouslytheBuddhistadagethat,“IfyouseetheBuddhaon
theroad…youkillhim.”Helikedtocollectringingbowls,prayerflagsandbells,knewthedifference
betweentheTibetanandtheChineseversionsofthedharma,wasordainedintotheChinese-styleatthe
BigBuddhamonasteryoutsideofCarmel,NewYork,andonthedayhewasordainedwenttothelocal
dinerwithRichandorderedbreakfast.InkeepingwiththesolemnityofthedayRichorderedjustblack
coffeeandabutteredbagel,andthoughttwiceaboutthebutter.“Inhonoroftheoccasion,”hesaidto
himself.Bill,inafestivemood,orderedastackofpancakes,twoeggs,sausage,bacon,homefriesand
coffee,withextracreamandsugar.
“Bill…IthoughtdenialofsensualpleasureswaspartofBuddhism,”askedRich,watchingslabsof
pancakequicklydisappearintoBill’smouth.
Billlookedsurprised.“Yeah?So?”
“Andaren’tBuddhistssupposedtobevegetarians?Youknow,respectforallsentientbeingsandall
that?”andRichpointsatthesausageandbacononhisplate.
“Yeah?So?”
“Well…?”
“Fuck‘em!”saidBill,laughing,aspiecesofsausageclungtohishugeteeth.Andofcoursetheyboth
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startedtolaugh.Hysterically.Theyoftendidwhentogether.
Afterwardstheysharedasmoke.Newports.“ForEdwardHopper,”RichtoastedBill,withagrin.
TheduohadalsodevelopedahighlysophisticatedinterestintheSpanishCivilWar,witheach
interpretingeventsfromtheRepublicanandtheFascistsides,bothreadingHughThomas’ssoup-to-nuts
historyoftheconflict,Orwell’s“HomagetoCatalonia”,JohnCornford’swarpoetry,StephenSpender’s
andJulianBell’s,studyingtheLincoln,JeffersonandWashingtonBrigadesthatwereslaughteredinthat
conflict,andwouldcueeachotherastowhichbattletheywoulddiscussonanyparticularday.Oneday
BillwouldbeFascistGeneralMolaadvancingontheEbroandRichwouldbeDurrutitheSyndico-
AnarchistburningdownachurchinZaragoza;thenexttimetheygottogetherBillwouldbethe
Republic’sDoloresIbarutta(laPassionaria)exortingthemassesto“Nopasaran!”andRichwouldbe
GeneralJoseAntonioPrimodeRivera,whofoundedtheFalange(Fascists),similarlyexhortingthe
Churchandthebourgeoisietostampoutthe“Republic.”BothhadtraveledseparatelyinSpainduring
theFrancoEra…andseenthebullet-holessillshiningblood-redonstonewallsinthehotsun.
“Fascistfiringsquads,”RichtoldBillwhenhereturned.
“LiketheydidwithLorca.TheyshotHIMintheasshole,”BilltoldRichwhenhereturnedafewmonthslater.
Inbetweenthesetravels,recitationsandremembrances,BillandRichwouldfeedeachotherlinesfrom
theJohnFordfilmofJohnSteinbeck’s“GrapesofWrath”,withBillalwaysbeingMuleytoRich’sTom
Joad.“Iwasbornonit.Farmedit.Gonnadieonit.Andthat’swhatmakesitarn,”Bill(Muley)wouldtell
Rich(Tom),kneelingdowntoscrapeupabitofdirtfromsomeparkinglotorotherwheretheywould
meeteverycoupleweeks.OnedayRichcamehomefromworkandtherewasamessagebeeping-red
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onhisnewphone:“Hello…ThisisMrs.Joad…IsmysonTommythere?”saidtheplaintivehigh-pitched
voice.ItwasBill.BothwerealsoadeptatvoicingGrandpa’sdispleasurewhenherefusedtogoto“Cali-
for-nee!”OrswitchingroleswhenMaJoadtellsTomatthedance:“Ain’tyougonnasaygoodbye,
Tommy?”TheybothmemorizedTom’slabor-organizerspeechattheendofthefilmandwouldsing
CaseythePreacher’s“Yes,Sir,That’sMySavior”inunisonastheydrovearoundinBill’sFordFiesta.
Theywouldenduptherecitationseitherlaughingorsobbing.Either/or.Nothingeverinbetween.
Intheend,Billstayedteaching.KepttryingtokilltheBuddha.SawRicheveryweekortwo,untilRich,
oneday,disappearedintoTheThought.
InbetweenthatfatefulmeetinginPeekskillyearsbeforeandTheThought,Rich,stocky,hairy,Italian,
50ishlikeBill,hadheldastrangesuccessionofjobs(paintingbackdropsfordepartmentstoredisplays,
makingartificialtrees,workinginabogussoapfactory,janitoring,truckdriving,shovelingshitona
horsefarm,thebowlingalley,postal-worker,clerkinabook-store,teachinginaprison,etc.),blewhis
marriage,anddecidedthathewasjustbetteroffalone.Painting.Thinking.Musing.Alone.Andwhen
Billburstinonhimconstructinghis“manyRushmores”hehadbeentoilinginpleasantanonymityfor
thelocalpaperinthesmalltownhehadsettledintowhenhismarriagewhenbust.Cloud,whowasnow
inhisthirtiesandwhohesawacoupletimesayear,hadstartedafamilyandhadbecomeafarmerin
theSouth.Hewas,likeBillandRich,relativelycontentwithhislife.
So,that’skindofwhereBillandRichwereatwhenBilldecidedtojoinRichonthecross-countrytripto
blowupMountRushmore…itwasasBill’sborder-linepersonalityMomusedtosaywhenhewouldgive
heragiftforherbirthdaythathehadsavedupforallyear:“Bill,that’snice,butit’salwaysjustThe
Thoughtthatmattersmost!”
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Chapter3
BilldrivesasRichsitsandridesshotgunacrossAmerica.Theywatchastheindustrialrevolutioninallits
rustandpoisonedriversstreamsby.
“God,isthisshitorwhat…wherearewe?”asksRich,edgyandgettingedgierasthehoursofgrimand
grimeyPennsylvaniarollbythewindowofBill’sFordFiesta.“Jesus!Whatshit!”…Wherearewe,Bill?”
“Golgotha,”saysBill,smilingattheBiblicalreference.HewaslikeRich,onceaparticipatingCatholic.
Bothhavingstartedtounparticipateintheirteenyears.
ForBillitwasanaturalprogressioninhisthinking,beingraisedinsouthernIllinoiswhereGod’s
tornadosrippedapartseveralsmall,poorfarmingcommunitieseverySpringandSummer,andwhereHe
thenburiedthemin30-feetofsnowintheWintermonths.“Fallwasnice,”wasallBillwouldsayabout
livingoutontheGreatPlains.“That’swhenpeopleusuallysnapandshoottheirfamilies…Winterwas
coming.”ForRich,raisedinthenon-tornadoEasterncorridor,itwasatraumaticexperience,losinghis
alreadyshakydevotionwhenDiane,thegirlhewasfoolingaroundwithwhenhewas14,wasnotstruck
bylightningasshewenttoreceiveHolyCommuniononeSundaymorning.Theyhadgonetoconfession
thenightbeforewithherparents,thenwentuptotheparkforsomedry-humpingbeforehewent
homeandtheyallwenttoMassthenextmorning.Heknewthatiftheywenttothealtarthatmorning
they,bothheandthefrolicsomeDiane,wouldbestruckdead.InCatholic-worlditisamortalsinto
receivethetransmutedbodyandblood(read:breadandwine)ofJesusifyouwereinsin.ButDiane
wentanyway.Justgobbleddownthathostthatwasofferedherbythepriestandthensashayedher
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sweet-assbacktothepewwithalittlesmiledancingacrossherlips.Richdarednotgouptothealtar.
Hedidn’twanttodie.Tobestruckbylightning.Notthere.Burntlikeacharcoalbriquetteashekneeled
interroratthealtar.RichexpectedDianetobestruckdeadonthespot,butnothinghappened.Nothing
atall.DianesmiledandwinkedasPeekskillcontinuedtopulseoutsidethechurchdoors.So,afterthis
closenon-encounterwithGod’sretribution,RichandDianecontinuedtheirSaturdayevening
confessionsandsubsequentSaturdaynightdry-humping,followedbyHolyCommunionSundaymorning
forthenextfewmonths,whenDiane,out-of-the-blue,announcedtheirrelationshipover.Itwas
anotherguy.ButRichknewitwasGod.
BillseesaMcDonald’sonthePennsylvaniaInterstateandpullsoffandparksthecarinahandicapspot.
“Somehowthistripmakesmefeelhandicapped,”hetellsRich,astheystandatthecounterwaitingto
beserved.
“CanIhelpyou?”saysthecounter-boy.Heisallof16.
Billorderstwohamburgers,acheeseburger,aBigMacwithbacon,largefriesandaDietCoke.
“IthoughtyouwerestillaBuddhist,”asksRich,stilledgy.“Aren’ttheystillvegetarians?Youknow,still
haverespectforalllivingthings.”
“Frenchfriesaren’tlivingthings.”
“Yeah,IknowFrenchfriesaren’talive,but…isn’ttheBuddhistphilosophystilloneofself-denial?”
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“Notforme.”
Thecounter-girlasksRichifhewantsanything,callinghim“sir”.
“Sir!...Noonecallsmesir,Miss!”
Thecounter-girl,herselfallof16,ispuzzled.“Mister?”
“Mister!”
Thegirlisgettingworried,wonderingifshehasasociopathicmassmurdereratthecounter.Shelooks
overtothecounter-boy-”Senor?”shesaystoRich,hopingthatinsteadofaninsanepersonsheis
dealingwithaMexicanwithalanguageproblem.
“SENOR!”
Thecounter-girlisbecomingalarmedandreadiesherindexfingertopressanalarmthatwillbringthe
localpolice,whenRichdemures:“It’sRich,younglady…andmeandBillhereareonourwaytoMount
Rushmoretoblowthefuckerup…Youknowit?”
Thecounter-boy,overhearingasksRich:“Rushmore?Isn’tthatamovie?”
“Amovie!Whatfuckingmovie?”
TheboysmilesnervouslyatRichandrushesawaytogetBill’sorder.
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“It’sanationalmonument,man…aFUCKINGNATIONALMONUMENT!”
TheboyhandsBillhisfood.“I’msorry,Idon’tknowit.”
“Don’tknowit?TheheadsofthePresidentscarvedintotheIndian’smostsacredmountain?
“Indians?HereinPittsburgh,”saystheboy.
“Naaah,man,inSouthDakota…AndtheseheadsarecarvedintothePahaSapa…theholiestplaceofthe
PlainsIndians…YouknowtheSioux?”
“Sue?”andheturnsandpointstothecounter-girl,nowhidingbehindhim.“Pahasapa?No,noone
worksherewiththatname,sir,there’snoSuePahasapaworkinghere.”
“HowabouttheBlackfeet?”
“Thisisanequalopportunityrestaurant,sir…”
“Rich,mynameisRich,”saysRich.
“Thisisanequalopportunityrestaurant,RICH,andwedon’tdiscriminatewhocaneathere.Blackfeet,
Whitefeet,Yellowfeet,orwhomever…”
“It’satribe,man.”
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“Tribe,group,ELKSClub,GirlScouts…wedon’tdiscriminate,sir.”
“Rich.”
“Rich…wedon’tdiscriminate,Rich.”
“Rich?...Whydon’tyouordersomething?”saysBill,munchinghiswaythroughaBigMac.
“What?...Oh,yeah…CouldIgetabottleofwater.”
Chapter4
AstheytravelthroughthebowelsofOhio…
“Listen,”saysBill,pointingtoalittlehomely,forlornhousesittingtoad-likebythesideofthehighway.
“IfI’meverlivinginaplacelikethatoffsomeGod-forsakenhighwayoutsideofsomedesperately
horrifictowninsomefrighteninglymiserableMidwesternstate,pleasekillme.”
“Apromise,”saysRich.
Theydriveinsilenceforawhile,takinginthebeat-up,down-troddenmiddleofthecountry.Finally…
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“Ihopewegetlaidonthistrip,”saysBill.
“Thisisbiggerthanusgettinglaid,man,”respondsRich.
“Notforme…maybeanIndiangirl.”
“WhatIndiangirl?”
“SomeonelikePrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-Spring,”answersBill,staringabsentmindedlythroughthe
frontwindshieldasRichdrives.
“FromtheHowdyDoodyShow?
“Yeah…Ihadmyfirsthard-onwatchingher.”
“Whatwereyou,five?Andshewasn’tanIndian,Bill,shewasanactress.”
“Shewasbeautiful.Iusedtodreamabouthernaked…DoIndiangirlsgiveblow-jobs?”
“What?...Blow-jobs?Ihavenoidea.”
“Theymust…I’msurethePrincesswouldgivemeablow-job.”
“Bill…she’snotafuckingPrincess…andshe’sprobably75years-oldbynow.”
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“Idon’tcare.”
“Youdon’tcarethatyou’rebeingblownbysome75year-old?”
“Look,man,she’snotjustSOME75year-old…she’sPrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-Spring!”
“Yeah,”saysRich,“howstupidofme.”
Theycontinuetoridealonginsilence…then…
“God,”saysRich,shakinghisheadindisbelief,“howfuckinguglyallthisis…Itwasn’tlikethiswhenthe
Indians…”
“Hopenot,”saysBill.“Otherwiseweshouldgetourglassbeadsback.”
Theydriveinsilence.
“Whattayasaywegetoffthehighwayandgetonsomebackroads?”saysBill.
“Why?”countersRich.“WhodoIlooklike,man,thatLeastHeatMoonguy?”
“He’sanIndian…andtheyhaveallthegreatestnames…,”andBillstartstochuckletohimselfandrepeat
LeastHeat’snameoverandover.
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“What?”saysRich,staringatBill,hishandsoffthewheelashehits90andthenoseofthecarenters
Illinois.
“Weshouldrenameyou,”laughsBill,“Rich‘LeastSane’Carrazzini!”
Theybothchuckle:Bill’sneartoafull-throatedlaugh;Rich’sclosertoagargledgrimace.
“Youknow,man,IhaveanoldgirlfriendinMinneapolis.”
“SheanIndian?”
“Don’tthinkso.HernamewasTina…shortforConcertina…”
“Concertina?You’rekidding,right?”
“NO…thatwashername,herparentswereaccordionplayers…Youknow,‘LadyofSpain’andallthat…”
“Great!Oneofmyfavoritetunes…Maybetheycancomealongandentertainus.”
“Ah,she’sprobablymarried…changedherlastname…”
“Whatwasit?”
“What”
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“Herlastname?”
“Wilson…theychangeditfromMastrogiacomoantonio.”
“Isthattheliteraltranslation?Wilson?”
“Nah…immigrationdidit.”
“Whatmadeyouthinkofher?”
“MountRushmore.”
“Why?ShelooklikeThomasJefferson?”
“Yeah…that’sit,Bill...”
“So,Rich,youthinkshemightwanttoreacquaintherselfwiththe55year-oldversionofTheMad
Greaseball?Iknowitwouldsoundenticingtomostwomentoreconnectwithsomeoldboyfriendfrom
35yearsagowholivesinaone-roomapartment,worksforadyingnewspaperinsomelittleone-horse
townandwhoisonhiswaytoblowingupanationalmonumentwithchickenshit…Soundsenticingto
me,butespeciallyforawomanwholookslikeThomasJefferson.”
Richisn’tlistening.Theyridealonginsilence,withRichslippingintowhatpassesforhimasreverie.
Afterafewminutes…
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“Shewasfuckingbeautiful,man.”
Billlaughs,ashortstaccatoburstofair.“Aren’ttheyall?”
Richissilent.ThinkingofTina.HisConcertina.
“Wannaknowhowwesplit?”
BilllooksoveratRichandsmiles.“WhydoIfeelyou’regoingtotellmenomatterifIdoordon’t.”
“Well…,”andRichdownshifts,“wewerelivingtogetherintheVillage,intheCity.CorneliaStreet.And
wewerehappyashell,medoingmyartthingattheSchoolofVisualArtsandmakingthosefucking
artificialtreestopaymywayandherworkinguptheblockatMetLife.Weweresupposedtomeetfor
lunchoneday,butshedidn’tshow.Shequitherjobthatmorning.Disappeared.Justdisappeared.No
note.Nomessage.Gone.Nothingforfourdays…andwehadfuckedthatmorningbeforeleavingour
place.EverythingseemedOK.ThenIgetthiscallfromRapidCity…”
“Police?”
“No.Itwasher…Tina.Shewasfrantic.HadbeenhavingnightmaresaboutMountRushmore…”
“Ah…Isee…”
“Shetoldmethatshehadtogothere,thatsomethingwasdrivingher,orshefeltlikeshewasgoingto
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gofuckingmad.”
“Soundslikemosttourists.”
“C’mon,man,”saysRich,annoyedwithBillonceagain,“I’mbaringmyfuckingsoulhere…Shesaidthat
shewasbeingcalledtoit.Avoiceinherhead.Itdrovehercrazy.Shecouldn’tgetitoutofherhead.”
“Hadshejustseen‘NorthByNorthwest’?”
“Idon’tthinkso…”
“Then…”
“Idon’tknow.Shewouldn’ttellmewhenshegotbacktotheCity.Butshewrotemealetterbreakingit
offwithme.Permanently.Isawheronceafterthat,butnotsince…Ithinkshemayhavebeenlivingwith
anotherguy.”
“OK,Iknowthismaybehardtodealwith,butmaybeshewaswithCaryGrant.”
“CaryGrant?”
“RememberwhenhewashangingoffGeorgeWashington’snoseatRushmore.Ialwaysfelthewasina
veryvulnerablepositionatthetime,andverysusceptibletothewilesofacompletelycrazywomanwith
apreternaturalobsession.”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
22
“Yeah,”saysRich,annoyed,beforeheslipsbackintohisreverieofTina,ConcertinaWilson,hisyoung
love.“Shewasincrediblybeautiful,man…”
Billjustnodsandstaresoutthewindshield.
“Wannagofindher?”saysRich,snappingfromhisreverielikewhiplash.
“Thinkshe’llblowme?”
Thepairdriveforawhileinsilence,boththinkingofTina.Rich,theTinaheremembersfromlongago;
Bill,theTinahewantstoknow,carnally.Buildingahunger,theystopatanotherMcDonald’s.Itlooks
strangelyfamiliar.Theygoinsideandthesamecounter-boyandcounter-girlarewaitingfortheirorders.
“CouldIhelpyougentlemen,”saysthecounter-boy.
“Sir?”thecounter-girladdressesRich.
“Itoldyoumynamebefore,”hetellsher.
“Sir?”saysthecounter-girl,lookingperplexed.
“Don’tcallmeSIR,Itoldyoubefore…it’sRich!”
Thecounter-boystepsintothefast-risinginexplicabletension.“OK,Rich,wouldyoulikeavaluemeal?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
23
“Value?”ashestaresincredulouslyattheboy,thenthegirl,andbackagain.“WhereamI?”
“McDonald’s,”saysthecounter-boy.“CanIgetyousomethingtoeat,Rich?...Avaluemeal,perhaps?”
“Value?It’sallaquestionofwhatyoumeanbyvalue?”saysRich,hismindreelingatthepossibilityofa
pairoftwins,afemaleandmaledouble-dip,workingintwoseparateMcDonald’sinseparatestates.
“Unbelievable?”hefinallysays.
“Value?Unbelievable?Whatdoyoumean,sir…er,Rich?”sayscounter-boy.
“I’llaskthequestions!”hesnaps.
“WhilethesetwoareexorcisingtheirSocraticdialogue,I’llhavetwomorehamburgers,acouplemore
cheeseburgers,twomoreBigMacs,largefriesandaDietcoke,”saysBill,smilingatthecounter-girl.
“Yes…ah…er…yourname?”
“Sir.”
“OK,Sir,”andshewalksawayfromthecounter.
“So,whatisofvaluehere,man?”
“I’mnotsurewhatitisyouraskingme,sir…ah,Rich?”saystheagitatedcounter-boy,hisfingersreadyto
pressthebuttonunderthecountertocallforthemanagerandmaybeeventhepolice.
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
24
“Itseemsprettycleartome…Howaboutyou,Bill?”
“Seemsprettycleartome,”shrugsBill.
“Areyouaskingifthemealsareofvaluein-of-themselvesorifonevalue-mealisofmorevaluethanthe
other…Rich?”sayscounter-boy.
“Whatthefuckareyouinto,man…Kierkagaard?”
“No,Rich,I’mnotintothatkindofstuff…I’maheterosexual.”
“Ididn’taskyouthat,man.”
“Oh,sorry…Rich…Whatareyouaskingthen…er,Rich?”
Thecounter-girlbringsBillhisorder.“Thankyou,Sir…Isthistogo?”
“Unfortunatelyforyou,no.”
Richleansacrossthecounterandeye-ballscounter-boy.”Don’tyourealizethatthefuckingWhiteman
stolethePahaSapafromtheIndians,themostsacredplaceontheplanetforthem,thecenteroftheir
universe,andrenameditMountRushmore?”
“Sorry,Rich,butIhadnothingtodowithit…Iwasworkinghere.”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
25
“Andthen,”continuesRich,“theycarvedoutthefacesofthosefourjackalsonthatsacredmountain?”
“AgainI’msorry,Rich…Maybewecanofferyouafreevalue-mealtomakeupforit…Canyouwaita
momentandI’llgetthemanager?”
BillisstandingnexttoRicheating.HetapsRichontheshoulder.“Youshouldatleasttrythefries.”
Chapter5
BillandRichtravelacrosstheplainsofIllinois.
“God,whatafuckingwasteland.Empty.Horrible.Deadly…Didn’tyoucomefromsomewherearound
here?”asksRich,stilldrivingasBillwatchestheflatlanddisappearintothehorizon.
“Justpassedit.”
“IfeellikeGeorgeEliot,”saysRich.
“T.S,”saysBill,matter-of-factly.
“TS?What?Toughshit?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
26
“No…T….S…”saysBill.
“Whatisthat,somekindofIrishcodewordorsomething?”
“Yousaid‘Wasteland’andthensaidGeorgeEliot…so,asacorrective…itwasT.S.Eliot.”
“WhatwasT.S.Eliot?”
‘Whowrotethe‘Wasteland’…GeorgeEliotwrote‘SilasMarner’.”
“WhothefuckisSilasMarner?”
“Amiser,”answersBill.
“Youreallyhavetostopthisliteraryshit,Bill,I’mgoingtodriveoffafuckingbridgeifyoudon’t…Ijust
wanttoblowupMountRushmorenotdebatewhichoftheEliotBrotherswrotewhichstory…CHRIST!”
“Well…theyweren’tbrothers…andoneofthemwasawoman…”
“Whichone?”
“George.”
“What,hehaveasex-changeorsomething?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
27
“Yeah…orsomething.”Andtheydrivealonginsilence,Billthinkingofhisyouthspentlookingat30-foot
snowdriftsthatburiedthefamilyhouse,hisFatherthedoctorbecomingrabidlyinsane,hisMotheraloof
tothepointofinvisibility,hisbrotherandsisterdegeneratingintoferalcreatures.“Youknow…theysay
thatthereasonsomanyserialkillerscomefromtheMidwest,andartistsandwriterstoo,isbecauseof
theWintershere…they’reso…so…,”andhefallssilent.Richisn’treallylisteninganyway,he’sthinkingof
amanhavinghisgenitalssevered.PoorGeorgeEliot,hethinks,Howfuckedupmusthebetodothat?
Billbreakstheirreveries.“YouknowanyactualIndians?OtherthanTina?”
“ImetRussellMeansonce.”
“TheAIMguy?”
“Yeah,Iinterviewedhim20yearsago.”
“Forthatlittleassholepaperyouworkfor?”
“Yeah,oneandthesame.”
“Whatwashelike?”
“HatedWhitepeople.”
“You,too?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
28
“DoIhateWhitepeople?”
“No…didhehateyou,too?”
“Ofcourse…listen.”AndRichreachesintoabagandrustlesaroundforatape.Hetakesitoutandpopsit
intotheportableplayerunderthedashboard.TheylistenasRussellMeansscreamsatRich,threatening
tocutofftheinterviewifhepersistsinaskinghimabouthistalkthenightbeforeatSkidmoreCollege.“I
TOLDYOUABOUTALLTHATLASTNIGHTATTHELECTURE,MAN.IFYOU’RETOOFUCKINGLAZYTONOT
HAVEMADENOTESONTHAT,THENITISJUSTTOOFUCKINGBAD!I’MNOTHEREFORSOMEWHITE
MANTOMAKEMONEYOFFOF!”
“Itwentdownhillfromthere,”RichtellsBill,andshutsoffthetape.
“Wasn’theChingatchcookin…”
“Yeah,”answersRich,“hekilledMagua…IlikedMagua…HewantedtobutchereveryWhiteperson,
exceptMadelineStowe.”
“MadelineStowe?…Whywouldanyonewanttobutcherher?...Andwasn’tMaguathatactor,theone
withthepock-markedface?”
“Yeah…WesStudey…usedtobeafootballplayer.”
“IthoughtthatwasJaySilvertoes?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
29
“Silverheels…andhewasTonto.”
“Oh,yeah,”smilesBill,“andtheniceIndianin‘DancesWithWolves’?”
“GrahamGreene?”
“TheThirdMan?”
“TheIndian.”
“Oh,”saysBill,losinginterestastheyenterMinnesota.“Isurehopewegetlaidonthistrip…Maybein
Minneapolis.”
TheydrivepasttheMinneapolisexit.
AstheydoBillwavestoit.“GoodbyeRich’soldgirlfriendthatditchedhimatMountRushmoreforCary
Grant!”
“I’msureshe’smarriedandhaskids,”saysRich.
“WithCaryGrant,”saysBill,andthenturnstoRich.“Isthatwhatthisisallabout,man,revengeforCary
Grantstealingyourgirl?Makingoffwithherasyouslavedawayinthosepatheticjobs.Knowingthathe
probablytookherbacktoHollywood,didlotsoffucking,ablow-jobhere-and-there,hadafewkidsthat
looklikemoviestars,alllivinginsome35-roommansioninBeverlyHills,drivingaJagback-and-forthto
thehairstylist,oooodlesofmoney…andyouthinkshemighthavegivenallthatupandislivingbackin
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
30
Minneapolisandwaitingforyoutocall?”
“Yeah…probablynot,”saysRich.
Chapter6
TheyreachtheDakotasandtravelthestraightesthighwayknowntohumankind.ItmesmerizesBill,at
thewheel,whileRich,ridingalongside,juststaresoutthewindshield.
“God,”saysRich,“thisistheugliestfuckingplaceintheworld.TheIndianslikedthisplace?”
“Musthave,”saysBill,“theyfoughtawfullyhardtokeepit.”
“Why,doyouthinktheyshouldhaveshareditwithfuckingWhitey?”
“Rich…,”saysBill.
LookingoveratBill.“What?”
“Lookintothesidemirror.”Helooks.
“Seeinganythinginparticular?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
31
“No…Why?”
“You’reaWhiteguy!”
“Onlyonthesurface,man,underneath,inmysoul,I’mafull-bloodedSiouxwarrior.”
“Theyknowthat?”
“Who?”
“TheSioux.”
“HowthefuckdoIknow,man,they’refuckingIndiansforGod’ssake.Whoknowswhattheyknow?
Theyjusthangaroundbangingtom-tom’sallday,chanting,prayingforrainandallthatshit.Andthey
havethatweirdwayoftalkingwiththeirhands.Sendmessagestoeachotherwithfuckingsmokeand
blankets.Stickneedlesintheirtitsandswingfrompoles…Man,iftheyhadjustabitoftheknowledge
wehavenowtheywouldn’tneedmeandyoutoblowupMountRushmoreforthem…Thereprobably
wouldn’tevenbeaRushmoreiftheyhadsomeoftheknowledgewehavenow…”
Billispuzzled.“Whatknowledgeareyoureferringto?”
“Advancedtechnology,”saysRich.“Youknow,likewehavenow.”
“Theyhadchickens.”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
32
“Yeah,butnowaytomakethechickenshitintoanythinguseful…”
“Nosurprisethere,”grinsBill.
TheyseeanotherMcDonald’supthehighwayandpullin.Whentheygouptothecountertheynotice
thatitisthesamecounter-boyandcounter-girlthatwereinthepreviousMcDonald’soutsideof
PittsburghandinIllinois.
“Thisisweird,”saysRich,ashestudiesbothofthem.
“Theymustmovethemaround,”saysBill.
“Maybethey’redoppelgangers,”saysRich.
“Sadiftheyare,”saysBill.“CondemnedforeternitytoaMcDonald’ssomewhereintime.”
“Kindoflike‘InvasionoftheBodySnatchers,’”saysRich.
“Thinkthey’repod-people?”saysBill.
“Let’ssaysomethingfunnytothemandseeiftheylaugh.Remember,pod-peoplehavenoemotions.”
“LikemyMother,”saysBill.Andtheymoveuptothecounter.
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
33
“Hi…CanIhelpyou?’askscounter-girl.
Richislaughing.“Yeah…Iputabombinthebathroomjustnowandit’sgoingtoblowupintwo
minutes.”
“What,sir?”askscounter-boy,standingbycounter-girl’sside.
“ABOMB!...There’sabombinthebathroom…”
Counter-boycalmlyreachesfortheubiquitousbuttonunderthecounterthatcallsthemanagerandthe
police.Richreachesacrossthecounterandstopshimfrompressingit.“Onlykidding,man…Onlykidding
…andit’sRich,notsir,”andlooksoveratBill,whoisoglingthelunchmenu.“See,Bill,nosenseofhumor
atall…They’refuckingpod-people!”
BillasksthecountergirlifRushmoreisn’tnearby.
“Rushmore?”shegiggles,“that’samovie!
BillsmilesatherandthenatRich.“She’sdefinitelynotapod-person.”
“Howabouthim?”saysRich,stillholdingthecounter-boy’shandtostophimfrompushingthebutton
underthecounter.“Heseemslikeone…Andher,maybeshejusthasn’tfallenasleepyet.Youknowthe
personbecomesapod-personwhen…”
“Iknowhowsomeonebecomesapod-person…,”andBillasksthegirltogethimsix
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
34
cheeseburgerstogo,alargeorderoffriesandadietcoke,asRichreleasescounter-boy’shand.
“YouwantedtoknowaboutMountRushmore?”sayscounter-boytoBill.
“Yeah,isitnearhere?”
“It’safewhundredmilesacrosstheBadlands.”
Richhearsthemagicname.“BADLANDS?!...ThatwasMartinSheenandSissySpacek!”
“Sorry,sir,whatdidyouwantorder?”askscounter-boy.
“It’sRich.”
“What’sRich?”
“Hisname,”saysBill.
“Andwhatdoeshe…er,Rich…wanttoorder?”
“Idon’twantanything…IjustsaidMartinSheenandSissySpacekwerein‘Badlands’,”saysRich.
“I’mnotfamiliarwiththem…Dotheyhaveasouvenirstandthere,sir?”
“Rich…andno,theydon’thaveasouvenirstandthere,man.”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
35
“I’msosorry…ah,Rich…butIonlymovedhererecently.Butwouldyoulikesomethingelse?”
“He’llhaveabottledwater,”saysBill.
Chapter7
BillandRichdrivethroughtheBadlands.Forhours.Thetemperatureisover100-degreesandthe
ancientstonesaremeltinginthesun.
“God,thisistheworstplaceonEarth…Doyouthinktheyhaveahardwarestorearoundhere?”says
Rich.
“Probably…everyplacehasahardwarestore.”
“Becauseweneedsupplies…”
“Yeah,”saysBill,“andmaybethere’sanotherBodySnatchersMcDonald’snearby.”
“Athemerestaurant?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
36
“Goinandcomeoutapod-person.”
“Itwouldbedifficultforustobecomepod-people,butmoresoformethanyou,”saysRich.
“Howso?”saysBill.
“I’mItalian.”
“Howtrue…Howtrue…”
IntheswelteringdustyhazethathoversovertheroadthroughtheBadlands,Billspotsashimmering
outpostofcivilization.“Look!”andhepointstowhatlookslikeastore.Ahardwarestore.
“Iknewthere’dbeonearoundheresomewhere,”saysRich,astheydriveintotheparkinglotof
Mohammed’sJihadHardwareOasis.
“Looksliketherightplace,”saysBill.
BehindthecounterisMohammed,a40-ishmanofswarthycomplexionanddarkbeard.Hewearsa
blackjalabaandturban,withascimitartuckedintoagoldensasharoundhiswaist.“CanIbeofzom
zervicetoyougentleman?”hesays,withathickaccent.
“Yeah,”saysRich,“we’relookingforsomestufftomakeabomb.”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
37
“Abomb?Abombyouzay?”
“Yeah,”saysRich,“we’reheadedtoMountRushmoretoblowitup.”
MohammedstartstogiggleandasksRich,allwide-eyedandchildlike,“You’regoingtoblowupMount
Rushmore?”
“Yeah,”saysRich.
“Why?”saysMohammed.
“WhyMountRushmore?”saysRich.
“Yes,thatizzzwhatIasked,”saysMohammed.
“Doyouknowwhat‘sonMountRushmore?”
“Ofcourse,”saysMohammed,“fourgreatAmericanprezzzzidents.”
“Great?!”saysRich,lookingoveratBillandthenbackatMohammed.
“Ofcourzzzze.Greatmen.Fourgreatmen!”
Richcanbarelygetouthisresponse.“Great!...”hesputters,“THEY’REFUCKINGSWINE!”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
38
“Zwine?Likepigzzzz?Withclovenhoofzzzz?No,no,no,theyaremen,greatmen,”saysMohammed.
“Theysuck!”saysRich.
“No,no,zir…theydon’tzuck.Theyaregreatmen,zir!”
“Doyouknowwhatthosecock-suckershavedone,Mohammed…YouareMohammed,right?”
“Yes,zir,andiftheyhaveunlawfullyeatenafewroosterzzzzz…whatiztheharm?”
“Rich.”
“Pardon?”saysMohammed.
“It’sRich.”
“WhatizRich?”
BillpointstoRich.“Hisname.”
Mohammedsmilesandbeginslaughing.“Oh…thatizzzzzagoodname…averygoodname.”
“Iguesshe’snotapod-person,”BilltellsRich.
“YouthinkThomasJeffersonwasagreatman,doyouMohammed?”asksRich.
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
39
“Idon’tknow,Mr.Rich…wazzzzzn’the?Hisfazzzeisupthereonthemountain.”
“That’smypoint,Mohammed.”
“Whatizzzyourpoint,Mr.Rich?”
“Thatyoudon’tknowafuckingthingabouthim,buthemustbeagreatmanifhe’supthereonthat
motherfuckingmountain!Right,Mohammed?Didyouknowthatthefuckerownedslaves,
Mohammed?”
“Mr.Rich,couldyouwatchyourlanguage…pleazzzze…theothercustomerzzzz.”
BillandRichbothlookaroundattheemptystore.
“Heownedslaves,Mohammed.Blackpeople.HeownedBlackhumanbeings.”
“Yezzzz,Mr.Rich,thatwazaverybadthingtodo.”
“Fuckin’ehitwas!Andhesoldthemjustbeforehedied.Didn’tgivethemtheirfreedom…Wannaknow
why,Mohammed?”
“Wazn’the…youknow…incarnalrelationzzzzwiththem,Mr.Rich?”
“Thatwasn’twhy,Mohammed.Youknowwhy,Mohammed?Wannaknowwhy?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
40
“IthinkMohammedwantstoknowwhy,Rich,”saysBill,lookingbored.
“Yez,yez,ofcourse…Pleazzzzzetellme,Mr.Rich.”
“Tosavehisfuckingfarm.Hismansion.Theplantation.TosavefuckingMonticello…Heneededthe
moneyhegotfromsellingthosepeopletokeephisland!”
BillleansovertoMohammed,whostandslookingatRichwithamixtureofwonderandincredulity.“Got
that,Mohammed?”
“Yez,yez…Gotit,Mr.Rich.”
Rich,warminguptohis‘IHateThomasJefferson’diatribe,flailsaroundthehardwarestore.“Iwent
therenotlongago–toMonticello–justtohearwhatthoseracistswouldsayabouthim,andthis
docent…”
“Pardon,Mr.Rich…whatizzzzthis‘do-zen’?”
“Guide,”Billtellshim,asRichsputtersandfumestothepointofnearapoplexy.
“Yessssss…andthefuckingflunky,thisguidetoldallthetourists–allWhiteImayadd–thattheday
ThomasJeffersonsoldhisslaves…SOLDTHEM!...hewatchedfromhishugepicturewindowastheslaves
weresoldoffandhadtearsinhiseyes…’ItwasMr.Jefferson’ssaddesthour’,saidtheguide…HIS
SADDESTFUCKINGHOUR!”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
41
“Yez,thatizzzzzad,Mr.Rich.”
“SAD!It’sfuckingdespicable,Mohammed!”
“IthinkMohammedunderstandsthedispicablenessofit,”BilltellsRich,whostareswild-eyedat
Mohammedacrossthecounter,hisheadinfull-twitchmode.
“Yez,yez,Mr.Rich,hewasdezzzzpicable.Arealzhit.Nofuckinggood.Hezhouldhavebeendecapitated
andburiedupzzzidedowninapileofcameldungas52virginzpizzzzzedonhisheadlezzzzbody…But,
otherthanthat,whatdoyouneedforthizzzzbomb?”
Richhasslowlystoppedtwitching.“Oh,yeah…yeah…Ithoughtyoumightknow.”
Mohammedisshocked.“Me?Whyme?”
BillleansovertoRich.“Ithoughtyouknewhowtobuildoneofthesethings…theFleetwoodMacguy
andallthat…”
“Ireadthemanual,”saysRich.
“Manual?Whatmanual?”
“TheoneIboughtatWal-Mart,”saysRich.
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
42
“Wal-Martsellsmanualstobuildbombs?”
“Oh,theyzelleverythingthere,zir,”saysMohammedtoBill.HeissmilingandgleefulnowthatRich
seemstohavecalmeddown.“Everything.Grozzzeriez,explosivezz,toiletpaper,woman’zitemz…next
they’llbezellingzlavezzzz…Blackonezzzzzz!LikeMr.Jefferzzzzondid!”
BillandRichstareatMohammed–Billwithanamusedglintinhiseye;Richtryingtocontainhisnascent
fury.“LookMohammed,”Richfinallyasks,swallowinghisbile,“canyouadviseusonthebestbomb
materialstoblowupMountRushmore?”
“Ofcourse.LetmegetFatima,mywife,zheistheknowledgableoneinzzesematterzzz…FATIMA!...”
AndFatimaappearsfrombehindabead-curtainatthebackofthestore,sheiscoveredhead-to-toeina
blackrobeandveil,withtwoeyeholestoseethrough,herhandscoveredinspiralsandcurli-cuesofred
henna.BilltellsRichshelookslikethewomanwhosetthebombintheFrenchmilkbarinthe
“BattleofAlgiers”.OutsideofTheGrapesofWrath,NorthByNorthwestandTheThirdManbyGraham
Greene–“NottheIndian”-itishisfavoritemovie.SoBilltakesthisasagoodsign.Rich,whohasn’t
seenthemovie,asksBillhowcouldshelooklikeanyone,coveredfromtop-to-bottomina“bathrobe,
withaveil?”
“Herass,”saysBill,smilingatFatima’sbottomasshequietlytalkswithherhusbandafewfeetaway.“I
cantell.Icanalwaystell.Assesdon’tlie,Rich.”
Atthat,MohammedtellsBillandRichthattheyneedsomeammoniumnitrate,adetonatingdevice,a
timer…”and100poundzzzzzoffertilizer.”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
43
RichlooksoveratBill.“Fertilizer!”
“Iguessyouwereright,”shrugsBill.“Chickenshitherewecome.”
“Wouldanalarmclockworkasatimer?”RichasksMohammed.
“Yezzzzz,thatwouldbegood.Wezellthemhere.”
“Andadetonator?”
“Youcanuzzzzefireworkz…IthinkM-80’zarethebezzzt…Wehavezemalzo.”
“Andthefertilizer?”
“Zat,I’mzorrytozzzzay,wedon’thave…You’llhavetogotothefeedztoreforzat.”
“Closeby,”asksBill.
“Justafewmilesdownthehighway.AttheendoftheBadlandzzzz.”
“Whyiscalledthat?”asksRich.
“Pardon?”saysMohammed.
“TheBadlands…Whyisitcalledthat?”asksRichagain.
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
44
Mohammedstartstolaugh.Hard.Hebeginstochokeheislaughingsohard.Finallyhesqueezesthe
wordsout:“Mr.Rich,haveyoulookedatzisfuckingplace?!”
RichlaughswithMohammed,andlikeMohammed,hecanbarelygethiswordsout:“Yeah!(yuk-yuk-
yuk)...Itisfuckinghorrible!(yuk-yuk-yuk)...Ahell-holethatIwouldn’twishonmyworstenemy!(yuk-
yuk-yukthenfollowedbyoneslowyuk)…Sowhydoyoulivehere?”
“Itremindzmeofhome,”smilesMohammed.
Chapter8
BillandRichdrivetotheendofthehighwayandfindMohammed’sJihadFeedStoreOasisatthe
intersectionoftheBadlandsandtheInterstate.Itisdecorous,likeMohammed’sHardware,withtwo
toweringminaretsandismadeofadobe,paintedontheexteriorwithgeometricpatterns.
BilllooksoveratRichbeforetheyleavethecar.“Abrother?”
BillandRichenterandgotothecounter.AndtherestandsthesameMohammedasinthehardware
store.
“Howcouldhedothat?”RichwhisperstoBill.“Wejustlefthimuptheroad.Thisisn’tmorepod-people
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
45
shit,isit?”
“Teleportation,”saysBillquietly.“Idon’tthinkArabsknowabout‘InvasionoftheBodySnatchers’.”
“Whatthefuckisthat?”saysRich,about‘teleportation’,thenturnstotheman–“Mohammed?”–
behindthecounter.
“Goodmorning,”saysthisMohammed,exhibitingnoaccentwhatsoever.“CanIhelpyou?”
“Aren’tyou?...Didn’tyou?”RichsputterstothisMohammed.“Ishe…?”heasksBill,whostandsbeside
himsmilinglikethechesirecat.“Hegotridofhisaccent.”
“Theyalllookalike…ormaybehewenttoBerlitzinbetweenourleavingthereandcominghere,”says
Bill,hisgrinbeginningtolookmoronictoRich,whoisbefuddledbyeverything,includingthis,the
appartentlydoubleMohammeds.
“IthoughtthatwasBlacksandOrientalswholookedalike?AndArabshaveneverbeentoBerlitz.How
wouldtheygetthere,Bill?Onafuckingcamel?”
“Yeah…that’sright,”saysBill.“Mymistake.”
“So,gentleman?”asksMohammed.
AftergettingpasttheirconsternationatthetwoMohammedstheyexitthestorewitha100-gallon
drumofliquidfertilizer.Theytrytogetitintothetrunkofthecar,butitwon’tfit.Richsuggeststhat
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
46
theytiethedrumoffertilizertotheroofofthecar.
“Withasignthatsayswehaveexplosivesattachedtoit?”saysBill.
“Fertlizer,man…fertilizer!”
“Yeah,Iforgot,”asBillhelpsRichgetthedrumupontotheroof.“Wecantellpeoplewe’regonnafarm.”
TheysetthedrumprecariouslyontheroofoftheFiesta.Itmakesanalarmingbulgeoverthe
driverseatofthecar.
“I’llgoinsideandgetsomerope,”saysRich,asBillholdsthedrumsteady.Richreturnswithafew
bungeecordsandthetwoproceedtostrapthedrumoffertilizertotheroofofthecar.“Allsettogo,”
saysRich,astheystepbacktoadmiretheiringenuity.
“Maybeweshouldputan‘I’mGoingtoBlowUpMountRushmore’stickeronit,”saysBill.
“Yougotone?”laughsRich,becomingdeliriouslyhappy,giddyalmost,attheprospectinfrontofhim.
Well,THEM…butitisRich’sdream,hisThought,thattheyhavecomethisfar…”Sofar,we’vecomeso
far,”herepeats,imitatingGandhipreparingfortheSaltMarchthatledtoIndia’sliberation.Richhasno
suchgranddesigns.Infacthehasnodesignsatallexcepthispersonalrepulsionatthefourpresidents–
“jackals”tohim-whositnot-so-benignlypassingjudgementonthosefarbelow…mostofthemIndians.
NottheGandhiIndians…Richdoesn’tknowmanyofthem.Onlyonereally.Agirlhemetinhighschool.
ShewasanexchangestudentfromsomewhereinIndia.“Itwashotthere,”shetoldhim.Richtriedto
wooher,inaway–hewasveryyoung–butshewascosmopolitan,whichshockedRich,forhethought
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
47
thatallIndiansfromIndialivedinmud-hutsandinterriblesqualor.Shethoughthewasnice,buttold
himhewas“limited…mentally”.Richdidn’tunderstandwhatshemeant.ShewentbacktoIndiaand
Richneversaworheardfromheragain.Hegotheraddressfromthefamilyshehadlivedwithandsent
herapairofnylonsandsomechocolatebars,“IsawitinaWorldWarIImovie,”hesaid,butfiguredthe
chocolatehadmeltedontothenylonsandruinedthem.“Shesaiditwashotthere,”heremembered.
Andthatwasthat.
BillandRichhopintothecarwiththe100-gallondrumoffertilizerstrappedtotheroofandtakeofffor
Rushmore.Andonthewayupthewindingmountainroad…
“Ialwayswonderedwhythosethingsarecalledbungeecords,”saysRich.
“Probablynamedaftertheguywhoinventedthem,”saysBill.
“BUNGEE!...That’safuckingstupidname.Andit’sjustabigfuckingrubber-band,man!Howcan
somebodyinventabigrubberband?”
“It’sAmerica…Peoplejumpoffbridgeswiththemtiedtotheirankles.”
“Yeah…Whatthefuckisthatallabout?”
“It’sAmerica…freecountry,right?”
“GoingoverNiagaraFallsinabarrel?”
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“America.”
“Flag-polesitting?”
“America.”
Squeezing50moronsintoaphonebooth?”
“America.”
“Carvingtheheadsoffourfuckingmass-murderersintoasacredmountain?”
“Yup…America.”
“Iwonderifsheevergotthenylonsandthechocolatebars?”Richmutterstohimself,ashestares
throughtheside-window,suddenlythinkingofhispast,andher.
“Ifwhogotnylonsandchocolates?”asksBill,lookingoveratRich.
“AnIndiangirl.”
“Tina!Yousenthernylonsandchocolate?...Iknewit!YouAREplanningonmeetingherouthere,aren’t
you?...Aren’tyou?”
ButRichdoesn’tanswerBill,insteadthinkingabouttheonetimethatheandKamalawentoutona
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date.Itdidn’tgowell.Hewantedtoimpressher;shejustwantedtohavesex.Andsincehehadlittleto
noexperienceinthisregard,hecouldbarelyimpressher,thisworldlyyoungIndiangirl.Sohemadeup
amorousadventuresforhimself,butsheknew,fromherrealamorousadventures,thathewasjust
makingthingsup.Shewasamused,butintheend,becamefrustratedwithRich,andhisincessanttalkof
sexwithwithJaneandJeanandJoanandJillandJessieandJoandJennyandJasmine,andthenBarbara
andBillieandBabsandBertieandBethandBettyandBette,andthenAngieandAnnieandAnnand
AnnaandArtisandArtemesiaandAndiagain,and…onandon…andon.
“Jesus…wasIafuckingassholeorwhat?”Richsaystohimself,thinkingofKamalaplayingwithhiswillie
throughhischinos.Hethinkshehadanerection…”WhatthefuckwasIwaitingfor?”hesays,again
underhisbreath…”WasIafraid?”
“What?’asksBill,overhearingRich’smumurs.“Waitingforwhat?Afraidofwhat?”
TheypassayoungIndianmanhitch-hikingonthesideoftheroad.Billstopsandwavestotheyoung
Indian,whowalksuptothecar.
“Whereyouheadin’,Chief?”asksRichthroughtheopenpassengerwindow.
“Chief?”
“GreatSiouxwarrior?”
TheyoungIndianstartslaughing…”Warrior?”
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“Whatever,man,whereyouheaded?”
“UptoRushmore.”
“Rushmore!Whyyougoin’upthere?”
“Iworkthere.”
“YOU!...Youworkatthatfuckingtravesty?”
“Yeah,it’sprettyfuckingstupid,isn’tit?”
“Morethanthat…rightBill?”
“Yeah…sure…”saysBill.
“Imean,howthefuckcanyouworkthere?”
“Needthejob,man…Ineedthejob.”
“Butthehistoryofthatfuckingplace.”
“Ineedthejob.”
“Butit’sthePahaSapa.”
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TheyoungIndianlaughs,butisstartingtogetannoyed.“Ineedthejob,man.”
“Rich…heneedsthejob,”saysBill.
“Andbesides,”laughstheyoungIndian,withacertaindegreeofsarcasm,“whatdoacoupleofPale
Facesknowaboutit?”
Richisindignant.“Iain’tnofuckingPalaFace,Tonto,I’mItalian!”
“Ooooooooh…sorryaboutthatman,”saystheyoungIndian,laughing,“butyouguysalllookaliketous.”
BillandRichareamusedbythisyoungIndianandtellhimtohopin.Theyrideforawhileinsilence.
“Youreallygoin’uptoRushmore?”askstheyoungIndian.
“Yeah.”asksRich.
TheyoungIndianchecksoutBill,thenRich,andsmiles.“Touristas?Youguysdon’tlooklikeregular
touristas.”
ThisamusesBill.“Oh,yeah…Whatdoesaregulartourist…tourista…looklikeouthere?”
“Youknow…bermudashorts,Hawaiianshirt,baseballcap,Americanflag-pin,usuallycartingacouple
obnoxiouskidsthatwanttoseeus,THEIRIndians,dosomekindofwar-whoop,orspeaktothemin
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Indian-talk…”
“What’sIndiantalk,man,”asksRich.
“C’mon,man,you’veseenthemovies…’How,littlebrother.Yourheartistrue.Nospeakwithforked
tongue…’andallthatshit…LoneRangerandTontostuff…setusback100years…”
“Nah,”saysRich,“we’renotlikethat.We’renottourists…we’regonnablowthefuckerup!...Didn’tyou
noticethedrumoffertilizertiedtoourroof?”
TheyoungIndianlaughs,butispuzzledbyRich’soff-the-cuffintensityandBill’slaissez-fairenon-
involvedpassivity.“Smelledit…ButIthoughtyouwerejustacoupleofWhiteassholeswhoweregonna
tryandfarmouthere…it’sbeentriedbefore.”
“See…farmers,”saysBill,withabigsmile.“Farmers.”
Theyrideforawhileinsilence…
“Blowitup?”saystheYoungIndianunderhisbreath,thentoBillandRich…”BlowupMountRushmore?
Whatthefuckyouwanttodothatfor?”
“Foryou,”saysRich,smilingandpattingtheyoungIndianonthearm.
“Forme?...Iworkthere.”
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“Don’tworry,man,wewon’tdoitwhenyou’rethere,andthenyou’llqualifyforunemployment.”
“Unemployment?Thisisthefirstfuckin’jobI’vehadintwoyears.”
“Don’tworry,”saysRich,“you’llgetit.”
TheyoungIndianthinkswithinthecar’ssilence,looksoveratBill,whodrivesalongplacidly,thento
Rich,whoissmilingtohimselfashestaresthroughthewindshield.“Hey…,”andhepointstoadirtroad
snakingawayfromthehighway,“whydon’tyouturnoffhere?”
“Why?”asksRich.
“There’ssomebodyIwantyoutomeet,”saystheyoungIndian.
BillturnsthelittleFiestaoffthemainroadtoRushmoreandtakesthedirttrackheadingdownintoa
littlevalley.Thedrumoffertilizerbouncesandboomsontheroof,itsimpressionisticdentcavingcloser
andclosertohishead.“Youthinkthefertilizerwillholdupthere?”heasksRich,gesturingtotheroofof
thecar.
“Gotto.Bungee.America…right,Bill?”answersRich,laughing.
“Yeah,Iforgot.”
Theycometoadeadendandthereisabeat-upoldtrailersurroundedbyold,rustedcars,refrigerators,
washingmachines,stovesandotherdetritusfromthemachineage.
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“Thisit?”asksBill.
“Yeah,”saystheyoungIndian,“honkthehorn,he’sprobablywatchin’TV.”
Billhonksthehorn.Itechoesthroughthepine-coveredvalley.
“TV?Atthistimeofday?”asksRich.
“Yeah,helikesthesoaps.”
“Wholikesthesoaps?”asksBill.
“MyGrandfather.”
AndanoldIndianmancomestothedoor.DressedinnothingbutjeansandaT-shirt,barefoot,withlong
braidedwhitehair,helookstoBillandRichlikeChiefDanGeorgefrom“LittleBigMan”,hisfaceacross-
countrymapoffoldsandcreases.TheTV,partiallyvisiblebehindhim,blasts“TheDaysofOurLives”
throughthedoorofthebroken-downtrailer.
“Grandfather,Ibroughtyousomevisitors.”
TheoldIndiannodsandwalksovertotheFiesta.“What’sthis?’hesays,pointingtothedrumof
fertilizerontheroof.
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“Fertilizer,”saystheyoungIndian.
TheoldIndianlooksamused.“Whataretheygonnablowsomethingup?”
BillandRichlookateachotherandsmile.
“Yes,Grandfather…MountRushmore.”
TheoldIndiansmilesandwavesBillandRichoutofthecarandwelcomesthemintohissweltering
trailer,pointstoacoupleofbustedchairsforthemtositonandoffersthemadrink.“Fire-water?”They
bothdecline.AstheoldIndiansipsfromatumblerofwhiskeyhepointsattheloud,blaringTV.“It’s
stupid.”
BillandRichnodinagreement.
“WatchjusttoseewhatWhitepeopleareupto,”saystheoldIndian,smilingatBillandRich.
“TheywanttoblowupMountRushmore,Grandfather,”saystheyoungIndian.
“It’stoolate.”
“Why,sir?”asksRich.
“Wherewereyou100yearsago?Nowit’slikeTV.Noonecares,it’sjustthere.”
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“Wedo…right,Bill?”saysRich,asBill,bathedinsweat,nodstotheoldIndianandmopshisbrow.
“Why?”askstheoldIndian.
“BecauseitisthePahaSapa,”answersRich.
“ThePahaSapa?!...Whatdoyouknowofthatplace?”
“IknowitwasthecenteroftheSiouxuniverse.”
“Stillis,”saystheoldIndian,staringatRichasifatararespeciesofanimal.
“AndthosefourheadsareaninsulttoallIndians.”
“They’remeaningless.”
“Butwewanttoblowthemup.”
“Why,areyouaSioux?”
“No,notanIndian,orSioux,bybirth,butanIndianofthespirit,”saysRich,withacertainuncomfortable
bravado.
“Youdon’tsay?”saystheoldIndian.
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“I…We…believeinwhatyoubelievein.”
“Leavemeoutofthis,I’mjustalongfortheride,”addsBill,his300-poundgirthsufferingintheheat.
“It’slikeafuckingtoasteroveninhere…Canwegooutside?”AndBillgoesovertothedoorandstands
facingtheslightbreezethatwaftsthrough.
“Doyou?”saystheoldIndiantoRich.
“Yes…Ofcourse…Ibelieveinwhatyoudo.”
“AndwhatisitIbelievein?”
“ThatthatmountainistheheartoftheSiouxNationanditwasstolenbytheWhiteman,whothen,to
rubtheSiouxnosesintothedirtafterdestroyingtheirculture,builtamonumenttotheWhitemanthat
looksdownuponnotonlytheSioux,butanyofuswhocareabouttheSiouxandtheirwayoflife.”
Thereissilence.RichstareshopefullyattheOldIndian.Billstandsinthedoorwaycatchingabreeze,as
theoldIndiansaystohisGrandsoninLakota:“Ithinkyourfriendhereneedstogetlaid.”
“They’rebothinsane,”saystheyoungIndian,answeringhisGrandfatherintheirancienttongue,asBill
andRichlookon.“ThebigoneremindsofthatcharacterfromthatSteinbeckbook.”
“Yes,Iseewhatyoumean,”saystheoldIndianinLakota,“theonewholikesrabbits…Doyouthinkwe
shouldkillthem?”
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“Wecan’tdothat,Grandfather,”answershisGrandsoninLakota,“asstupidastheylooktheyprobably
havesomeWhitewomenlivingwiththemandwho,stupidly,willlookforthem.”
“Ah,Whitewomen!”saystheoldIndianinLakota.“Ihadoneofthemonce!”
“Really,”askstheyoungIndianinLakota,“whenGrandfather?”
“Longago,beforeImatedwithyourGrandmother,”theoldIndiananswersinLakota.“Yes…Yes…she
wasn’tverygood.Didn’twantmetomounther,insteadwantedto…whatisthatphrase?”
“Whatphrase,Grandfather?”askshisGrandsoninLakota.
“TheEnglishphraseforwhenawomanputsaman’serectpenisintohermouthandsucksitlikeapeace
pipe?”saystheOldIndianinLakota.
“Oh…ablow-job,”saystheyoungIndian,returningtospeakinEnglish.
Bill,bythedoor,hearsthemagicwordsandturnstoRich.“BLOW-JOB!Whataboutablow-job?...Iknew
it.TheseIndianwomenliketogiveblow-jobs.JustlikethePrincess.”
“Blow-job?”RichaskstheyoungIndian.
“Grandfatherwasjustreminiscingaboutawomanheknewmanyyearsago.”
“Iguessyouwereright,”RichsaystoBill.
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“AskyourGrandfatherifshe’sstillaround,”saysBilltotheyoungIndian.
Chapter9
AfterleavingtheyoungIndianwithhisGrandfather,BillandRichdetourthroughthePineRidge
Reservation.Realizingthattheirattempttoblow-upMountRushmorecouldbemisinterpretedasa
twisted,paranoidWhiteresponsetoreal-or-imaginedpersonalslightsthateachhasincurredthrough
thefirst50-or-soyearsoflife…theynowknewthattheyneededIndianallies.Especiallyaftertalking
withtheoldIndian.
“WannagofindRussellMeans?”asksRich.
“Ithoughthehatedyou,”saysBill.
“Hedid.”
“ThoughtyouwereaWhitepieceofshit.”
“That’swhathetoldme.”
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“Andthatifheeversawyouagainhe’dcrushyourballswithastonetomahawk.”
“Yeah,hedidsaythat.”
“So,”saysBill,“wheredowefindRuss?”
Theydrivethroughthereservation.Burnedoutandrustingcarsareeverywhere.
“Somethingtellsme,ohkemo-sabi,thatyourIndiansaren’tintotechnology,”saysBill.
“Canyoublamethem?”
Billshakeshisheadno.“I’mhungry.”Andhespotssomethingthroughtheroad-dustthatswirlsacross
theirfrontwindshieldlikedryfog.“Canitbe?...”
“Youthink?”saysRich,marvelingatthetallgoldenarchesstandingabovethedustanddirtlikethe
gatesofheaven.
“Let’sfindout,”saysBill,gleefully,astheydriveintotheparkinglotofthePineRidgeMcDonald’s.
BillandRichwalkuptothecounterandthesameboyandgirlarethereagain,onlythistimewearingwarbonnets.
“AreyoutworealIndians?”asksBill.
“Ofcoursenot,”gigglesthecounter-boy,“we’rePresbyterians.”
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BillandRichlookateachotherwithsighsofrelief.
“Canwehelpyou?”asksthecounter-girl.
“I’mlookingforaRussellMeans,”Richtellsher.
“AndI’llhavefourcheeseburgers,twolargefries,twoapplepiesandadietcoke,”saysBill.
“Sothat’sfourcheeseburgers,twolargefries,twoapplepiesandadietcokeforyou,”asshenodsto
Bill.“AndaRussellMeansSpecialforyou,”andshenodstoRich.
“ARussellMeansSpecial?WhatthefuckisaRussellMeansSpecial?”
Thecounter-boycomesovertoRichandinalowvoiceaskshimtocontrolhislanguage.“Thisisan
IndianReservation,sir…Let’sshowsomerespect.”
“IT’SRICH!YOUKNOWIT’SRICH!...YOUFUCKINGPOD!”
“Please,sir,”whisperscounter-boy,“please…”
IT’SRICH!!...YOUFUCKINGDOPPELGANGER!FUCKINGCLONEOFANASS-HAIR!...IT’SRICH!ANDYOU
GOD-DAMNWELLKNOWIT!!!
“Ifyoudon’tcontrolyourlanguage,sir…er,Rich…Iwillhavetocallthemanager!”sayscounter-boy,
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withmoreurgency.
“Who’sthat,RedCloud?!”interjectsBill,chucklingtohimself.
“Yes,asamatteroffactitis,”sayscounter-boy.
“GOODGOD,BILL,”screamsRich,“I’MGOINGTOEVISCORATETHELITTLEBASTARD!”
“Holdon,man,”asBillgrabsRichandaskscounter-boy,“You’retellingmeyourmanager’snameisRed
Cloud?”
“Yes…weallhaveIndiannames.”
“BILL…LETMEKILLTHELITTLETURD!SCALPHIM!”AndRichgrabsaplasticknifefromatrayandtriesto
lungeacrossthecounter.
“YouallhaveIndiannames?”Billaskscounter-boyashestrugglestoholdbackRichfromleapingacross
thecounter.
Counter-boyisterrifiedofRichandstepsbackfurtherfromthecounter.“Ofcourse.”Asheanswers,
counter-girlbringsBill’sorder.
“Andyoursis?”heaskscounter-boyasheholdsRichwithonehandandtakeshisorderfromcounter-
girlwiththeother.
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“Thunder-Thud,”gigglescounter-boy.
“CHIEF…Thunder-Thud?”asksBill,nearlybesidehimselfwithglee.HetriestocalmRich,whoisswinging
theplasticknifearoundrecklessly…”FromHowdyDoody!”Andheturnstothecounter-girl.“Ohmy
GOD!...Ifhe’sChiefThunder-Thudthenyoumustbe…”andhecrossesthefingersonthehandhehas
wrappedaroundRich’smid-section,
“PrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-spring,”shesays,smilingwithtrepidation.
“MYGOD!”andBillreleasesRichfromhisgrasp,whothenfallsagainstthecounter,exhausted.Billis
beaming.Hisheartaflutter.Hishandsatwitter.Hisfaceflush…”I’vefoundyou!MyGod,I’vefoundyou!”
Ashort-timelateroutsidethePineRidgeMcDonald’s,BillandRichsitinthecar.Billeyesthefrontdoor
tothefast-foodjointandeatsravenouslywhileRichstaresathim.
“Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?”RichasksashewatchesBilltearingthroughhischeeseburgers.
“What?”answersBill,hismouthfullofcheeseburger.
‘What?What?...You’vebeenlikeeating10mealsadaythiswholetrip.”
“So?”
“So?...Youtohaveprepareyourselfforthejobathand,Bill.”
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“Iam,”isBill’smuffledanswerthroughyetanothercheeseburger.
“Youare?You’regettingreadytoblowupRushmorebyeatinglike50cheeseburgersaday?”
“Hamburgers,too…Fries…BigMacs…Anoccasionalchickennuggetortwo…”ashekeepseating.
RichstaresatBillforalongtime.“Whatthefuck,Bill?Whydidwecomehere,anyway?”
“Iknowwhatyou’reherefor,butI’minitforthesex,”saysBill,justbeginningtoseetotheendofhischeeseburgers.
“SEX!Whatsex?”
“With…”andBillnodstowardtheMcDonald’s,“thePrincess.”
“Princess?!Bill,she’snotafuckingPrincess.She’safuckingteenagePresbyteriandressedinafucking
warbonnet!”
“She’saPrincesstome.”
“AnythingthatwalksisaPrincesstoyou.”
“Nottrue!...I’vebeen…youknow…”
“You’vebeenwhat?”
BILLANDRICHGOTORUSHMORE
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“Nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing…nothingatall,”andBillfinishesthelastofthecheeseburgersandfriesandgurglesthelast
fewdregsofDietCoke.
“ChiefThunder-ThudtoldmethatRussellMeanshasaranchovernearPorcupine,”RichtellsBill.
“Youtakethecarandgoseehim.”
Richcan’ttakehiseyesoffBill.Watchinghimeatandwatchinghimsmilingtohimself.Hetakesthe
keystotheFiestafromBill.“Whatthefuckisgoin’on,Bill?”
“He’syourfriend.”
“AndwhileI’mgettingscalpedwhatareyougonnabedoing?”
“I’llbewaitinghere…overatthattable.”
AsRichdrivesawayforhishoped-forpow-wowwithRussellMeans,Billsitsatthepicnictableoutside
thePineRidgeMcDonald’s,hisPrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-Spring–thegreatloveofhisyouth–inside
servingupBigMacsandfries,andbeginstoday-dream…
Billissittingbyariver.TheGreasy-Grass.Heiswearingaloin-clothmadeofdeer-skin,achest-plateof
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deer-bones,hisbigbellyprotrudingfromunderit.Onhisfeetaremoccasinsmadeofdeer-hide.Hehas
eaglefeathersinhishair.HeisanIndian.ASiouxwarrior.AndheiswaitingforhisPrincess.Sheglides
acrossthemeadowneartheriverandcomesuponBillsittingandmeditating,hislegscrossedinalotus
position.Shesitsdownnexttohimashechants.ShelooksathimasanIndianmaidenwouldagreat
warrior,especiallynowthathehasbroughthistribeheretotheGreasyGrassforthegreatmeetingof
thetribes.Therearemorethanthree-thousandLakotaandCheyennebraveshereatthisplaceandshe
haschosenBill–BigRedManheiscalledbyothers–tositwith.Theytalk,butthewordsaremuffled.
Buffaloes,rabbits,owlsandeaglesroamabout,smilingandwavingtoBillandthePrincess.Theyarein
loveandthesceneisfilledwithlushcolors:thegrasstoogreen;thewatertooclear;theskytooblue;
thecloudstoowhite,asBillandthePrincessstand,holdhandsandwalktothewater’sedge.Billlooks
intothewaterandinitsclarityheseeshimselfasayoungman,hishairinlongredbraids,beardless,
chicletteethgleaminginthetoogoldensun.ThePrincessistall,slender,herraven-blackhairpartedin
themiddle,herMcDonald’shead-bandholdingitinplace.TheyareinloveandBilltakesthePrincess
intohisarmsandkisseshersoftly.Billhearsmusicinthedistance,comingfromtheIndiancamp.Itis
LouieArmstrongsinging“It’sAWonderfulWorld”-Whatishedoinghere?hethinks,ashesmilesathis
Princess.Allisperfectandheisinlove.“Everythinginitsplace,”hesaystohimself,astheanimals
prancearoundthemandheandthePrincessexchangeweddingvows.“Aslongasthegrassisgreen;as
longastheskyisblue;aslongastheriversflow;Iamyours,”theysaytoeachother.Billhasneverbeen
happier.EventhebirthofhisdaughterMaevemanyyearsbeforeandinanotherlifetime,didn’tmake
himsohappy.AndhelovedMaevemorethanlifeitself.AsBillandthePrincesskissstandinginthe
GreasyGrassandthewindingriver’ssparklingwaterdancesaroundtheirlegs,thereisastrangesound.
Ablaringtrumpetfromafar.NotfromLouieArmstrong.No,thisisagratingsound.Aharsh,violent,
aggressivesound,rippingthroughBill’sbrainanddrainingthedreamofcolor.HeturnsandthePrincess
isgone;thegrassisredwithblood;theskyblackwiththunderclouds;theanimalsdisappeared;andthe
riverfilledwithbodies–Indianbodies-thatfloatintothedistantworld.Thisworldisnomore.Bill,Big
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RedMan,isnomore…thisdreamhasended.
“Hey!”callsapoliceman,anIndian,standingbyasnow-whitesquadcar.HewalksovertoBill,whosits
forlornatthepicnictable.“OK,bigboy…What’sgoingon?”
“Myworldhasjustended,”saysBill,absentmindedly.
Asecondpoliceman,alsoanIndian,walksover.“Wattayoudoin’here,bigboy?”
Billcan’tanswer.Heisdevastated.Finally,withtearsrollingdownhischeeks,hetellsthem:“Waitingfor
thePrincess.”
“WhatPrincess,bigboy?”asksthefirstcop.
“PrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-Spring,”Billsays,aslightglimmerofhopeinhiswords.
“What,shegonnameetyouhere?InPineRidge?”saysthesecondcop.
“Nah,she’sinside.”
“InsideMcDonald’s?”asksthefirstcop.
“Yeah,I’vebeensearchingforherforever,andnowIfoundhere…justlikewithJohnWayne.”
“JohnWayne?TheDuke?”asksthesecondcop.
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“Yeah,”answersBill,“inthatmoviewithNatalieWood.”
“WestSideStory?”asksthefirstcop.
“Nah,theotherone,”saysBill.
BothcopsstandandstaredownatBill,whoishunchedoverwithadistantgleamdancingacrosshis
eyes.HestaresattheMcDonald’s.“It’sover,isn’tit?...Iheardthebuglesound…”
AsBillisquestionedbythepoliceatthePineRidgeMcDonald’s,Richdrivesaroundthereservation
lookingforPorcupine.AndRussellMeans.HehonksthehornoftheFiestatoalltheIndianshesees
alongtheway.Friendly-like.Butnooneknowswheretheone-timeleaderofAIMlives.Ortheyjust
don’twanttotellaWhiteguy.HefinallystopsbyayoungIndianmansittingonaburnedout
OldsmobileDelta88.
“Hey,man…YouknowRussellMeans?”
“Yeah.”
“Great!...Knowwherehelives?”
“Yeah.”
“Canyoutellmewhere?”
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“Whoareyou,man?”
“Afriend…Well,notexactlyafriend…Morelikeanacquaintance…Iinterviewedhimonce…Maybe20
yearsago…Hehatedme…Threatenedtocrushmyballswithastonetomahawk…Scalpme…Cutoutmy
innardswithadullbuffaloknife…Decapitateme…Putmyheadonapoleandpissonit…”
“Thatsoundslikehim.”
“So,”asksRich,“youknowwhereIcanfindhim?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“NewYork.”
“NewYork?Whatthefuck’shedoin’there?”
“WhatthefuckYOUdoin’here?”smilestheIndian.
“Me?I’mheretoblowupMountRushmore.”
TheIndianlooksatRich,sizeshimup,andthenstartstolaugh.Andlaugh.Hecan’tcontrolhislaughter.
Richjuststaresathimashislaughterbuildstoacrescendo,withwaveafterwavecirculatinginthestill
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air.Hefinallyreachestheapex,thenpauses,startslaughingagainsohardthathebendsovertocatch
hisbreath.“Wow…thatwasagoodone.”
“I’mserious,”saysRich.
“Iknow,”saystheIndian,andhebeginslaughingagain.
Chapter10
BillsitshandcuffedinthepolicecarlookingoutattheMcDonald’s.Thefirstpolicemanwalksthe
counter-girlovertothecarandasksherifsherecognizesBillasthemanwhohasharassedher.Billsits
quietlyintheback-seat,asshesays“yes…hekeptsayingsomethingaboutHowdyDoodyandablow-
job….andcallingmePrincess.”
“DoyouthinkthisDoodyistheotherguy?”asksthesecondpolicemanofthefirst.
“Morethanlikely,”saysthefirstpoliceman,“pervertsusuallyworkinpairs.”
“Whatelsedidhesaytoyou?”thefirstpolicemanaskscounter-girl.
“Notmuchelse,justsomethingaboutMountRushmore.”Andbothpolicemangiveknowinglooks.“And
somethingaboutRussellMeans.”Bothpolicemannodtoeachother.
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“Thinkweshouldtakehimin?”asksthesecondpolicemanofthefirst.
RichdrivesthroughtherestofthereservationheadingbacktotheMcDonald’sandBill.Ashenearsthe
GoldenArchesapolicecarpasses,withBillsittingstifflyinthebackseat.Richlooksthroughtherear-
viewmirror,makingsureit’sBill,pullsoverintothesagebrushandwatchesthepolicecardisappearinto
acloudofdust…
”Andaheartyheight-hoSilver!”heyellstohimself,thenlaughs,morefromexasperationwithhislong-
timeBuddhistfriendwiththesexualobsessionthanfrommirth.Richdoesn’tfeelmirthful.Hefeelsput
upon.Heturnsaroundandfollowsthedust-trailintoPineRidge,thinkingofagoodstorytotellthe
cops.
BillandRichsitintheFiestainfrontoftheMcDonald’s…onceagain.
“Youalmostgotusfoundout,”saysRich,afteralongsullensilence.
“Yeah,”saysBill,absent-mindedly,“sorryaboutthat,”
“Bill,yougottayourselfundercontrol.”
“Right,”saysBill,lookingatRichoutofthecornerofhiseye.
“You’regonnagetuskilledwiththisPrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-Springshit.”
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“Right,Rich…butnooneiswonderingwhywe’redrivingaroundwitha100-galloncanofchickenshit
bungeedtoourroof…Where’stheircuriosity?...Theyonlycareaboutsex.”
“Itlooksthatway…Sowhatdidyoutellthem?”
“AboutthePrincess?”
“FUCK!BILL!...NotaboutthefuckingPrincess…aboutMountRushmore?”
“Nothing…theydidn’task…Whatdidtheyaskyou?”
“ItoldthemwewerefromNewYorkandthatIwasyournurse.Thatyouhadhadamental
breakdownandjustwantedtoseetheWestandplaceslikeMountRushmoretohelpyougetbetter.
Andmaybeevenbuysomelandouthere.”
“That’sit?”
“Well,whentheyheardIwasyournursetheyquicklyputtwo-and-twotogetherandaskedifwewere
homosexuals…Ididn’tanswer.ToldthemI’dtakethefifth.”
“Thefifthwhat?”
“Youknow…makingincriminatingstatements.”
“Sotheythinkwe’regay?”
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“More-or-less.TheyaskedaboutRussellMeansandItoldthemwhathehadtoldme,sothatwasit.
ThentheyaskedmeifIknewabouttheFortLaramieTreatyof1867andhowitprohibitspeoplelikeus
-supposedWhitehomosexuals,Iguess-frombuyinglandonthereservation…ItoldthemIdidn’tknow
that…andthentheyletyougo…inmycare.”
“That’sfitting.”
BillandRichgetbackontheroadtoRushmore,theirnotiontoenlistanIndianintheirplantoblowit
upcomingtonothing.It’seveningandthetwilightbathesthesurroundingBlackHillsinavelvetmantle.
“Beautiful,ehBill?”
“Yeah,beautiful.”
“Bill?...Youeverthinkwe’dbeheredoingthis?”
“Doin’what?”
“Drivingheretoblowthefuckerup?”
Billsmiles.“YouknowwhenIwasakidmyMotherhadallthisplanned.Totakemybrotherandsister
andmeonaWesternvacationfortheSummer…MountRushmore…theGrandCanyon…Mesa
Verde…Bryce…Arches…Zion…theFourCorners…”andhechucklestohimself,“thewholesheeee-bang!”
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“Didyougo?”
“Nah,myFatherhunghimselfthatSummer.Iguesshewasdepressed.”
“Soyoudidn’tgo?”
“No…MyMotherwentwithoutus.SheleftuswithmyAuntandUncle,myFather’sbrother,whowasa
pervert…Helikedtotakebathswithus,mybrotherandI…”
“Huh…apervert,”saysRich,thinkingbacktoabig1950’sbrightredCadillacconvertiblepullinguptoa
groupofyoungboysplayingbaseballinthestreet.Thedriverisalargegreyingmaninhismid-40’sand
wearingaNewYorkYankeebaseballcap.Hemotionsforthemtocomeovertothecar,andholdsupa
ballandbaseballbatforthemtohold.Theboysarefriendlytotheman…theyknowhimfromthe
neighborhoodasChip,whoonce–sohesaid–playedintheminorleaguesfortheYankees.Apitcherhe
said.“IknewMickeyMantle…hewasjuststartingoutwhenmyarmwentbad,”hewouldtellthem,
smiling,alwayssmiling.Helikedtochatwiththeboys.Tellthembaseballstories.Onedayheinvitesone
oftheboys–a10-yearold–togoforarideinthecar.TheboyjumpshappilyintothefrontseatasChip
giveshimthebattoholdandputstheYankeecaponthekid’shead.Everyoneissmilingandlaughingas
hedrivesoffwiththeyoungboy.FromthatdayonthroughtheSummer,Chipwouldstopandtalktothe
boys,regalethemwithbaseballstoriesagain,andgivetheboyanotherride.Theboy’sparentsknew
Chipandlikedhim.AndtheyknewthatChiplikedtheirson.AndsinceChip,thoughmarried,hadno
childrenofhisown,theywouldtelltheotherneighborsthatChiptreatstheirsonashisown.After
thosefirstfewridesinhisbigredCaddy,hetooktheboytobaseballgamesatYankeeStadiumthat
Summer.TotheBronxZoo.ToBearMountaintogoswimming.Andtohisapartmentontheotherside
oftown.Thenoneday,asSummerwaswinding-downandChiphonkedtheCaddy’s-hornoutsidehis
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house,theboytoldhisparentsthathedidn’twanttogowithChip.Notanymore.HisMother
wentoutsidetotellChipandhedroveoff.ThatwasthelasttimetheboysawChip.
Chapter11
BillandRichpullintotheparkinglotforMountRushmoreandlookoutthewindowatthefacesonthemountain.
“Wow!”saysRich,“Ineverrealized…”
“Yeah,“saysBill,finishingRich’sstatement,“they’rebig…Reallybig…Iwonderwherethehouseis?”
“Whathouse?”
“Theoneontopoftheheads…inthemovie.”
“Movie?”
“NorthByNorthwest…youknow,Hitchcock?”
“Ohyeah…theyprobablytoreitdownafterthefilming,likewiththattownin‘Ryan’sDaughter’.”
“TheDavidLeanmovie?TheoneinIreland?”
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“Yeah,theguywhodid‘LawrencefromArabia’.”
“WhatdoesthathavetodowithMountRushmore?”
“Nothing,”admitsRich.
BilllooksatRichandshakeshishead.“Hewentdownhillafter‘Lawrence’.Ryan’sDaughterwasareal
pieceofshit.”
“YouonlysaythatbecauseyourIrish.”
“Nah…itwasjustapieceofshit.WastedSarahMiles.”
“Yeah,whywouldanybodywannawasteSarahMiles?”
“Yeah,”saysBill,staringdumb-struckatthehugenessofthefourheads.
“Yeah,”saysRich,musingonthefourheads.“Fuckingbig,ehBill?”
“Yeah,Iwonderhowlongittookthatguytodothis?”
“Fiftyyears.”
“Yousure?Wecanaskintheguyintheoffice…theRanger.”
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“Ranger?”
“Yeah,that’swhattheycalltheguysoutherewhowatchplaceslikethis.”
“Yousureyou’veneverbeenherebefore?”
“Nah…thatSummermyMothercameoutherewewereallbeingfuckedbymyUncle.”
“Ohyeah,Iforgot,”saysRich.“Let’sgoandseetheranger.”
BillandRichwalkintotherustic-lookinginformationcenterandsureenough,thereisaRangerthere
standingbythedeskandwearingaSmokey-the-Bearhat.Billaskshimforsomeinformationaboutthe
Mount.
Smilingandfriendly,theRangerbegins:“Sure…TheMount…”
AndRichcutshimoff:“OriginallycalledtheSixGrandfathersbytheLakotaSioux…
TheRangerlooksoveratRichandsmiles.“Yeah…that’sright…Itwasre-namedforCharlesE.Rushmore,
aprominentNewYorklawyer,duringanexpeditionin1885,andwassculptedbyGutzonBorglum…
AndRichinterruptsagain.“WhowasamemberoftheKuKluxKlan.”
TheRangerstopsandstaresatRich,whogrinsathim.Hecontinues…”andlaterhissonLincolnfrom
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1927to1941,andfeaturestheheadsofformerpresidents…lefttoright…GeorgeWashington,Thomas
Jefferson,TheodoreRooseveltandAbrahamLincoln…andare60-feetinheight.SouthDakotahistorian
DoaneRobinsoniscreditedwithconceivingtheideatopromotetourisminthearea…”
“WhichwaspartoftheroutethatLakotaleaderBlackElktookonaspiritualjourneythatculminated
atHarneyPeak,”addsRich.
“Yes…that’scorrect,”saystheRanger,staringatRich.
“AndtheownershipoftheareahasbeenindisputedbytheLakotaSiouxonthebasisofthe1868Fort
LaramieTreaty…”saysRich,noddingtowardtheRangerandBill.
“Theonethatstopshomosexualsfrombuyinglandouthere?”asksBill.
TheRangercontinuestostareatRich,thensmilesbroadly.“Man,youcertainlyknowalotaboutthis.
Whyareyouaskingme?”
“It’syourjob,isn’tit?”
“Icoulddothis,”saysBill.“IcouldbeaRangeratMountRushmore.”
“Butthat’snotwhywe’rehere,”saysRichquietlytoBill.
“Ohyeah,Iforgot.”
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“So…ClaytonMoore…”saysRichtotheRanger.
“ThenameisRoger…RogerDeerPaw.”
“You’reafuckingIndian?!”
“Ineedthejob,”theRangertellsRich,“sogetoffmycase!”
“WOW!AnotherrealIndian…DoyouknowPrincessSummer-Fall-Winter-Spring?”interjectsBill,grinning
fromear-lobetoear-lobe.
Chapter12
BillandRichstandbytheFiestalookingupatthefourheadsonRushmore,asdusksettlesinaround
allofthem:BillandRichandtheheads.
“Whichonewastheworst?”BillasksRich,alreadyknowingtheanswer,butwantingtohearhimrant
andrave.ItalwaysmadeBill’sbloodcirculatefaster;hisbrainwhirquicker;hiseyesrollaroundlike
pinballsinsidetheirsockets.Inotherwords–helikedit.
Richpretendstothinkaboutit,butheknowsthatBillknowstheanswer,andhealsoknowsthatBillhas
adeepappreciationofhisemotionaloutbursts.“Richisnopod-person,”hetellsanyonewhoasks.
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“ProbablyJefferson,”saysRich.
Billactssurprised.Likeheneverheardthisbefore.“Hmmmmm…Jefferson?…Isitallthatstuffyousaidto
ThunderThudbackatMcDonald’s?”
Richisn’tlistening.Hestaresattheheads.“Rooseveltwasawar-mongeringasshole…Bully-Bully!Andall
thatshit…AndWashingtonwasanunrepentantIndiankiller…alsoownedslaves…andLincoln,ifforthe
EmancipationProclamationshouldbeexcluded,buthisattitudetowardBlackswasnodifferentthan
somefuckingKlanmembers…Thoughttheywerelikechildren.Unabletohandle‘freedom’,
irresponsible…ButJefferson…Jefferson…hewasthebiggesthypocriteofthemall.Allhisflowerybullshit
intheDeclartationofIndependence.AndthatManifestDestinycrap…Whatafuckinghypocrite.A
fuckingslaveownertotheend.Life,LibertyandthePursuitofHappiness,myass!”
BilltellsRich–post-rant–thathedoesn’tthinktheycangetcloseenoughtoblowuptheheads.
“We’llseewhenitgetsdark,”saysRich,soundingannoyed.
“Yeah,butRangerRogerinthereisn’tgoingtoletusunloadallthisbombstuffandwalkitupontothe
mountain.EvenifheisanIndian.”
“We’llseewhenitgetsdark,”saysRichagain,obviouslyannoyed.
“Buthe’llseeus…”
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“How’shegoingtoseeuswhenit’sdark?”
“Idon’tknow…aflashlight?”
“Indiansdon’tcarryflashlights,Bill…onlytorches,”saysRich,gettingpissierbythesecond.
TheystandbythecarasRangerRogerapproaches…carryingaflashlight.He’slaughing.“Wattayouguys
stayingthenight?”
“Yeah,Roger,wewanttogetthefulleffect,”Richtellshim.
“Yeah,thefulleffect,”nodsBill.
“That’sacoolidea,”saysRoger,“buttheparkclosesatnightfall.Somaybeyouboysshouldcheckintoa
motelorcampgroundsomewhere.”
“Yeah,thatsoundslikeagoodidea…right,Rich?”saysBill.ThereisnoanswerasRichstaresatthe
heads.Heseemsinatrance.“Rich?”butthereisstillnoanswer.SoBilltriesagain.“Itseemslikeagood
ideatostayatamotelorcampground,rightRich?”
Richjoltstoawareness…”What?...Oh,yeah…amotel…”
“Oracampground,”saysBill,shakinghisheadasRogerstandsofftotheside.TheRangerhasalready
cometotheconclusionthatthetwoaredruggies,stonedonsomethingorother.Butfiguresthatthat
isn’thisproblem.Hethinks,‘Hey,therejustacoupleofidiotWhiteguys…whatdoIgiveashitfor?’
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“Ok,”saysRoger,“haveanicenight,boys,”andhewalksbackintothevisitorcenter.
“You’reright,Bill,wecan’tgetcloseenoughtothefuckingheadswithoutTontooverthereseeingus,
so…”
“Whydon’tIlikethesoundofthat…”
“Solook,Bill,maybeweshoulddrivethecarascloseaswecantoitandblowitupthere.”
“Blowwhatup?”
“Thecar.”
“Thecar?!...It’smyfuckingcar!...Andhowdowegethome?”
“Idon’tknow…andwhatdifferencedoesitmakeanyway?”
“Whatdifferencedoesitmake?!...It’sMYfuckingcar!”
“Iknow,Iknow,butit’swhatwecameheretodo.”
“NO!...No,no,noway!That’snotwhatWEcameheretodo!Blowupthemountain…yes,OK,butnot
myfuckingcar!”
“It’stheonlyway,”saysRich,lookingatBillwithpleadingeyes.
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“It’smyfuckingcar,Rich!...Andyoudon’tevendrive,atleastlegally.”
“Look…Youcancollecttheinsurance…sayyouwerethevictimofrandomterrorism…anybodywould
understandTHAT!”
“Whatterrorists?...WEaretheterrorists!...AndwhataboutRoger?”
“Whatabouthim?”
“Hesawus.Talkedwithus…Heknowswhoweare.”
“Hewon’tdoanything.”
“WHAT?!Howdoyouknowthat?”
“He’sanIndianisn’the?”
“Yeah,but…but…but,”andBillissputtering,heissodistraught,seeing20yearsbehindbarsandhim
wearingthathideousprisonjump-suittomeetingswithMaeve.‘I’lllooklikeanorange,’hethinks.
“He’sanIndian,anddeepdownhewantsustoblowthisfuckerup.”
“Whatdidyouchannelhimorsomething?Howdoyouknowthat?”
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“IknowIndians,Bill.”
“Youdon’tknowanyIndians!...JustTinaoverthereinMinneapolis…whatthefuckareyoutalking
about?!”
RichseemscalmerasBillbecomesever-moreexcitable.Itisanotherfacetoftheirfriendship.“Look,Bill,
I’mgonnapushthecaroverthere,”andhepointstoaparkingspaceneartheInformationCenter.“Then
afterTontoleaveswe’llsetoffthebomb…Youwithmeonthis?”
“WecameallthiswaytoblowuptheMountRushmoreVisitorCenter?...IthinkI’llwaithere…”
SoRich,usingeveryounceofhisstrength,hopsintothedriver’ssideoftheFiesta,steeringwithhis
righthandandwiththedooropen,pushingthecaralongwithhisleftlegalongtheparkinglotmacadam
towardthevisitorcenter.It’snoteasy,butheisdedicated,asdedicatedtonowblowingupthecenter
ashewasoriginallyaboutblowingupthefourheadsonRushmore.Billsitswatching,dispassionately,
ontheground100feetaway.Richthensqueezesunderthecarandbeginstohookupthewirestothe
detonatorthatwillsetoffthechickenshitthatwillblowupthecar,thevisitorcenter,buthopefullynot
RogerDeerPaw,oneoftheIndianswhohecametosavefromthetreacherousWhiteman.Asheworks
onthewiring,checkingtheWal-Martmanualwithhisminiatureflashlightashedoesso,Rogerwalks
overfromtheVisitorCenter.
“Hey,man,youOK?Cartrouble?”
“Yeah…Roger…butit’llbealright…”
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“Look,man,Idon’twanttorushyou,buthowlongyougonnabe?”
“Notlong,Roger…I’llgetitgoinginacoupleminutes.Youcancut-outifyouwant.”
“I’mnotsupposedtoleaveanyonehere,but…Areyousure?Ifyoudon’tgetitgoingandI’mgoneit’s
likeafive-milewalktothenearestmotel.”
“It’sOK…Ifitdoesn’tgetgoingwe’llcallsomeone.Wegotacellphone.”
“Icanwaitabitmore.”
“Don’tfret,Roger,we’reOK.”
AndRogerlooksoveratBill,whositsstoicallywatchingthesceneplayout.“Whatabouthim?Helooksdepressed.”
“He’sOK,he’sjustbi-polarandnowhe’sattheSouthPole,”saysRich,andbothstartlaughing.Rich,his
headjuttingoutfromunderthecarandRogerleaningagainstthefenderandlookingdownathim.
“Yeah,”saysRoger,continuingtolaugh,“myGrandfatherislikethat.Oneminutelaughingandthenext
talkingaboutstartingawartoregainthePahaSapaforthepeople.ThenhegoesovertoBearButteto
sitaroundandchantallfuckin’day!”
“Ha!IsheaBuddhist?...Heis,”andRichextendshisarmfromunderthecarandpointsbackatBill.
“ABuddhist?MyGrandfather?No,he’sLakota.Idon’tthinkheeverheardofBuddhism.He’sneverleft
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theBlackHillsinallhis88years.Couldn’t.HewasalwayslookingforCrazyHorse’sheart.”
“I’veseenhimchantallday,”saysRich,pointingagainatBill.
“MaybeheisLakota,”smilesRoger.
“Hewishes…Irish…differenttribe.”
RogerlooksoveratBill,whohaslaindownonthegrasslookingupatthebrightstarsoverhead.Nothing
isvisibleexceptthesolesofhissneakersandbeyondthat,likeamountainitself,hisbigbelly.“Soyou
guyswillbeOKifIcut-out,right?”
“Yeah,Roger,thanksforeverything,man,butwe’llbefixedupinacoupleminutes.”
“OK…”andhewalksovertohisOlds88,jumpsinanddrivesawayquickly,beepinghishornashe
disappearsintothenight.Itisdarksaveforthestarsoverheadandthesuddenflashunderneaththe
Fiesta,asRichwalksbacktowardBill.Hesitsnexttohislong-timefriendandwatchestheflameslowly
engulftheentirecar…butthereisnoexplosion.BillandRichwatchimpassivelyasthecarburns,turning
itselfintoablackenedhulksittingintheMountRushmoreparkinglot,just20-feetfromtheVisitor
Centerandnearly100yardsfromthoseheads.
“Imusthavedonesomethingwrong,”saysRich.
“Youthinkso?”saysBill.
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“Probably,”saysRich.
“Probably?”saysBill.
“Thinkweshouldgetoutofhere,”saysRich.
“How?Youburnedthecar,”saysBill.
“Wannacallataxi?”saysRich.
“Withwhat?”saysBill.
“Yourcell-phone,”saysRich.
“It’sinthecar,”saysBill.
“Whyisitinthere?”saysRich.
“Sorry,Ididn’tthinkthatyouwouldneedit…here,”saysBill.
“Youdon’thavetobesarcastic,Bill.”
“SARCASTIC!Who’ssarcastic!...YoudrivemeoutherewiththepromiseofsexwithandIndian
princess…”
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“Ineversaid…”
“…soyoucanblowupMountPapaDooWopoverthere…”
“…PahaSapa,andit…”
“…andyoudon’tevenknowafuckingIndian–exceptthatchickfrom40yearsago…”
“…Tina,hernamewasTina…’
“…andyet…ANDYET!...Youwannablowthisfuckerupbecauseofpeopleyouheardhadfuckedthemup
overahundredyearsago…”
“…it’swelldocumented,Bill…”
“…andthatTHEY,theIndians,obviouslydon’tgiveashitaboutanymore…”
“RussellMeansdoes!”
“Hewantedtokillyou,cutoffyourballswithastonetomahawk…”
“Hewasconfused…”
“Howabouttherestofthem?”
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“They’reindenial.”
“So,fortheseIndiansindenial,youwanttoblowupMountDoo-Doohere…”
“Rushmore.”
“…andwindupturningmycar,myonlycar,mybelovedFordFiesta,intoacharcoalbriquette
withoutanydamagetonotonlytheVisitorCenter,whoneverdidanythingtoyouoryourfriendsthe
Indians,ortothosefourstupidfucksupthereonMountJerk-offwhodid…”
“Rushmore.”
“THERE!”andBillpointstoRushmore.“UPTHERE,RICH!LOOK,FORCHRIST’SSAKE!ARETHEYSTILLUP
THERE?!”
“Youdon’thavetobesobitteraboutit,Bill.”
“BITTER?!WHO’SBITTER?!”
Chapter13
BillandRichsitinthegrass100feetfromthecarwatchingthefiresmolderandeventuallygoout.They
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sitlikethatforalongtime.Richthinkingofthenextopportunity-Maybenextyearwecancomeout
againwithabetterplan,notonefromWal-Mart,andabettercar;andBillthinksofPrincessSummer
Fall-Winter-SpringatthePineRidgeMcDonald’srunningtohiminslow-motion,largefriesinhand–She
wassobeautiful,justlikeontheHowdyDoodyShow.
“Iwannagohome,”saysBill,breakingtheirreveries.
“Metoo,”saysRich,andhegetsupandwalkstowardtheVisitorCenterasBillwatches.Heislookingfor
apay-phoneoutsidethebuilding.Findingoneonthesideofthecenterhedropsaquarterintoitand
waits.FifteenminuteslaterMohammed’sJihadTaxiOasispullsintotheMountRushmoreparkinglot.
“Acousin?”saysRich.
“Mustbe,”saysBill.
AndMohammed,whoisthespittingimageoftheMohammedfromMohammed’sJihadHardwareOasis
andMohammed’sJihadFeedStorestepsoutofthetaxiandwalksovertoBillandRich.
“Apod?’”saysRich.
“Probably,”saysBill.
“Youcalledforacab?”saysMohammed,withanaccentsomewherebetweenMohammedHardware’s
verypronouncedoneandMohammedFeedstore’snearlynon-existentone.
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“Itlookslikeit,”saysRich.
Mohammedlooksoverattheburned-outcar.“Yourcar?”heasksRich.
“Mine,”saysBill.
“Oh…sorry,”saysMohammed,bowingandtwirlinghisrighthandtowardBill.
“Thanks…Mohammed?...Weweretryingtoblowupthemountainanditdidn’tworkout,”saysRich.
“Oh…sorry,”hesays,andbowstoRich,makingthatcirclingmotionwithhisrighthandthatArabmen
offerasasortofprayer,saying:Sorryoldchap,I’msorry,butI’mgladitwasyourcarandnotmine.
“Soweneedaridetoamotel,”saysRich.
“Ok…Fine…MycousinMohammedrunsaverygoodonenearby.”
“Isit…like,youknow…doesithave…youknow…”andRichstumblesoverhiswords.
“Youwanttoknowifitisatentmadeofgoatskins,withdroppingsalloverthedirtfloor,withno
runningwaterandyouhavetoshitinahole?”
“Sorry,”saysRich,“wemeantnodisrespect.”
“Ofcourseyoudid!Andyes,itisatentofgoat-skinwithdroppingsallunderfoot,norunningwaterat
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all…andyes…YES!...youdohavetoshitinahole!”andhesmilesatthem,benignly.
“Howmuch?”asksRich.
“Includingbreakfast?”
“What’sforbreakfast?”asksBill.
“Goat,”saysMohammed.
“Thesameonethat…?”
“…leavesdroppingsalloverthefloor?OFCOURSE!”andhestartslaughing.Benignly,ofcourse.
“Soundsholistic,”saysBill.
“We’lltakeit…Sohowmuch?”asksRich.
“Willthatbeonestrawbedortwo?Theyarequeensize.”
“Two,”saysBill.
“Agoodchoice…Nowwe’llhavetoputyourbreakfastoutsideforthenight,”andMohammedlaughs,
shakinghisheadathisownironichumor.“Ahhhhh,Mohammedwillbesopleased…customers.”
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“Sohowmuchfortheroom,twobeds,breakfast?”asksRich.“Anddoyoutakecreditcards?”
“350,000dirham,withthetaxiride…”
“That’sprettysteep,”saysRich.
“Yes,I’msorry,”andhecalculatestherateofexchangeinhisheadasBillandRichstareathim.“Itis
6.75inAmericandollars…andyeswetakeallcreditcards,debitcards,evenlibrarycards,”and
Mohammedonceagaincrackshimselfup.“Thatwasajoke…wedon’ttakedebitcards,”andonceagain
hestartslaughing,asBillandRichlookathimstone-faced.
BillandRichsitinthebackofMohammed’staxi,windingthroughthedarknight,whenpolicelightsflashby.
“IthinktheyareheadeduptotheMountain,”saysMohammed,asBillandRichsitinsilence,not
wantingtoanswertheirdriverandnotwantingtoturnaroundandlook.
“Maybeyoushouldjustdropusatthebusstation,”saysRich.
“TheonlyoneisRapidCityandthatis25milesaway,”saysMohammed.
“Howmuchwillitcosttotakeusthere?”asksRich.
“$6.75…andcanIaskyouboyssomething?”
“Sure,”saysRich.
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“Imeanitisnoneofmybusiness,but…WhydidyouwanttoblowupMountRushmore?”
BilllooksoveratRich.“Wouldyouliketoanswerourgooddriverhere?”
“Itdoesn’tmatternow,”answersRich.
“Wasitsomekindofsecretmission?”
“Yeah…itwasfortheCIA,”answersRich.
“TheCIA?!YoutwoareCIAagents?!Thatisincredible,”andMohammedstartstoguffaw…andloudly.
RichstaresatMohammed.“Actually,Mohammed…itISMohammed,right?...ItwasfortheBLT.”
“BLT?...Idon’tknowthatone…anothergovernmentspyagency?”
“No,asandwich,”saysBill.
“Asandwich?”
“Naaah,Mohammed,wejusthadnothingbettertodo,”saysRich.
“Really,nothing?”
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“So,wefiguredwemightaswellgoouttoSouthDakotaandblowupMountRushmore.”
“Butwhythisone?”
“FortheIndians,rightRich?”saysBill,oozingsarcasm.
“Mohammedlaughs.“FortheIndians?”
“Why?Youthinkthat’sfunny,Mohammed?”saysRich,irritated.
“No,sir.”
“Rich.”
“Who’sRich?”
“Him,”andBillpointsatRich.“Him,that’shisname.”
“Andyou?”MohammedasksBill.
“Bill.”
“BillandRich…ah,veryniceAmericannames…BillandRichgotoMountRushmore…”andMohammed
laughs.
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“Eh,Mohammed…CanIaskyousomething?”saysRich.
“Sure,Mr.Rich,fireaway!...Isthatright:fireaway!”
“Yeah…fireaway…butwhatIwanttoknowiswhyYOU’REhere?”
“Me?”
“Yeah…You…Why?”
“Idon’treallyknow.”
“Soundslikeus,”saysBill.
“Yes,”saysMohammed,laughing,“maybeIamjustasbiganasshole…isthatright:asshole?...asyou
two.”
“Youthinkwe’reassholes?”saysRich,hisirritationrising.
“Yes,ifthatisthewordforatotallyignorantpersonwhohasnoideaintheworldwhattheyare
doing…don’tbeoffendedMr.Rich,Mr.Bill.”
“Andthat’syou,too?”asksRich.
“Ofcourse,”laughsMohammed,lookingintotherearviewmirrorathistwosolemnpassengers,who
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mayjustbeBLTagents…”Hey,lightenup!...Isthatthephrase:lightenup?...Likemostpeopleinthe
worldIhavenotacluewhatI’mdoinghere,oranywhere…likeyoutwo,also…realassholes,thethreeof
us!...realassholes!”
BillpatsRich’sarmandsmiles.“Solightenup,Rich?”
“Whatarewetodo,killourselves?YoumightaswellblowupMountRushmoreMr.RichandMr.Bill.
Right?Enjoyyourselves…Look,thewayIseeit,notbeingborninAmerica,thissocountryissofullof
assholeslikeusthatIhaveahardtimetakinganyofitseriously.Lookatthosemencarvedintothe
mountain…IcheckedthemoutwhenImovedhere…”
“WiththeotherMohammed’s?’asksBill.
“Yes,withthem…Ifoundouttosomepeoplethattheyweregreatmenandtootherstheywereno
differentthangoatdroppings…”
“So?”asksBill,wonderingwhereMohammedwasgoingwiththis.
“So,Mr.Bill,whereIcomefromthereisonlyonetypeofman.”
“Whois?”asksRich,alsowonderingwhatMohammedistalkingabout.
“Notwho,Mr.Rich,butwhat…”
“OK,Mohammed…Whatkindofman?”
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“Amanwhowillnotaskoranswerquestions.”
“Whatisthisafuckingriddle?”saysRich.
“Goon,Mohammed,”saysBill.
“ThatiswhyIcameWest.”
“Soyoucanaskandanswerquestions?That’sfuckingstupid!”saysRich.
“Nottomeitisn’t,Mr.Rich.”
Thethreeofthem,Mohammeddriving,BillandRichinthebackofthetaxi,ridealonginsilence.
“WhatquestionwouldyoulikeUStoanswer,Mohammed?”saysBill.
“Iamnotsureyouwillknowtheanswer.”
“It’sOK,man,I’maBuddhist,soIunderstandyourreticence.”
“Whatisthisren-a-sense,Mr.Bill?SomethingfromItaly?”
“Notrenaissance,reticence,”laughsBill.“R-E-T-I-C-E-N-C-E…orisitR-E-T-I=S-E-N-S-E?...Whateveritisit
meansnotsureofdoingorsayingsomething.”
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“YES!Thatistheperfectword,Mr.Bill,forhowIfeelaboutthisquestionIwanttoask!”
“Goahead,Mo,”andBillsmilesathim,“CanIcallyouMo?”
“Mo?IsthatanAmericanname,Mr.Bill?”
“Kind-of…it’sanickname.”
“Ah,aNICKNAME…Mo…anickname…”
“Soaskaway,”saysBill.
“Askaway!...Thatisgood!”andMohammedchucklestohimself.“Veerygood…veeerygood…”
“WELL!”saysRich,hispatiencesincetheMountRushmoreabortionataverythinedge.
“Oh,yes,myquestion,”
“WearealmostinRapidCityforfucksake!”
“Youcursealot,Mr.Rich.”
“Willyouaskyourfuckingquestion,man?”
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OK…heregoes…,”andMohammedtakesalongpause…”Mr.Rich,Mr.Bill,doyouknowwhereIcangetablow-job?”
“YOUTOO!”shoutsBill,andpatsMohammedontheshoulder.
“Isthattheword?Blow-job?Youknowwhenthewomantakesaman’syayaandshe…you
understand?...thewomeninmycountrydon’tdothis…itis…itis…”andMohammedneverfinishesthe
sentenceasthetaxirollsintotheRapidCitybusstation.HedropsoffBillandRichanddrivesaway,
beepingandwaving,hisquestionforeverunanswered.
BillandRichsitquietlyinthebusstation,waitingforthenextbus,anybus,East.Overtheloudspeaker
comesanannouncement:“LadiesandGentlemen,thenextbusoutisthe7:05localtoMinneapolis-
St.Paul,arrivingshortly.”
“TINA!”yellsBill,hisarmswavingoverhead.
“Youmaygetoneyet,Buddha-boy!”laughsRich.
“Yeah,toobadMohammed’sgone.”
BillandRichsitinthebackofthebustoMinneapolis-St.Paul,watchinganddreamingalongwiththe
Americanheartland.
“God,itisfuckinguglyouthere,”saysRich.
“I’mhungry,”saysBill.
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SomewhereinMinnesotathebuspullsintoaMcDonald’sandBillandRichdisembarkwiththerestof
theriders.
“Whattayouthink,Rich?”asksBill,astheywalkunderthegoldenarches.
“Aboutwhat,Bill?’answersRich.
“Pod-people,”saysBill.
Epilogue
AfewmonthsafterthetriptoSouthDakotaandtheirthwartedattempttoblowupMountRushmore,
Billdied.Ananeurysm.HehadcollapsedoneeveningtutoringastudentinEnglish,wastakentothe
nearbyhospitalanddiedontheoperatingtable.Maeve,Bill’snow20-yearolddaughter,triedtoreach
Rich,buthehadnophone.Again.Shefinallyrememberedthenameofthelittlecaféinthetownhe
livedinwhereshehadvisitedhimwithherFatherandleftamessageforhimtocallher.Richwas
surprisedtohearfromher.“IseverythingOK?”heasked,thinkingthatthecallhadsomethingtodowith
his“ThoughtsofRushmore”exhibitthatwasopeningthatverynightatthelocalcollegeArtGalleryand
thatBill,andpossiblyMaeve,weregoingtoattend.AtleastheknewthatBillwas.Hehadhopedthat
Maevewouldtoo.ButheheardMaevecryingontheotherendoftheline.“Whatisit?Iseverything
alright?”heaskedagain.ButMaevecouldn’tspeak.“IsitBill?”Richasked,suddenlysosadthatit
seemedthatmostofthelightonthatperfectlybluer-than-blue-skySeptemberdayhadbeen
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quicklyextinguished.“No,”saidMaeve,nearlyunabletomouththewords:“Daddidn’tmakeit.”Rich
heardhimselfsob.“No…no…no…no…”isallhecouldsaytoher,thendroppedthephoneandranout
intothestreetsofthelittletown.Walking.Walking.Thinkingthethought.ThethoughtofBill.Hisfriend
ofthousandsofyears.HeroamedthelittletownaloneuntilitwastimeforhisArtopeningatthe
college.Hewent,butfeltblank.Didn’ttellanyoneaboutBill.Hedidn’twanttosharehisfriendshipwith
Bill.HisfeelingsofBillwithanyone.Aftertheopeninganddrivinghomeonthedarkeststretchofroad
onthedarkestofnightsRichsawhimilluminatedintheheadlightsofhiscar-theBuddha–smilingand
wavingtohimfromthesideoftheroad.Sohekilledhim.
Itwastheonlythingtodo.
AndinmemoryofBill,andcrimescommittedandcontemplated,Richsaidgoodbye.
TheEnd
“BillandRichGoToRushmore”
astoldby
RichardCorozineandBillFord
Copyright2014
e:richardcorozine@yahoo.com
(stillnophone)