Home Country
Slim Randles

“So how about this?” Dud said, grinning. “We get somebody to pretend to be an oil tycoon’s executive director or something, and we have him talk to Delbert about where to build the refinery.”
   The other members of the Mule Barn truck stop’s world dilemma think tank looked at Dud and sipped coffee and silently shook their heads.
  “Okay, Dud said,” and why not?”
 “Won’t work,” said Steve, brushing sweet roll crumbs off his walrus moustache. “Dud, the nearest oil to this valley is sold in cans down at the Gas Station Gun Shop.”
   “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
  Doc said, “I realize we have to come up with some super April Fools Day hoax. Stands to reason. We only have this excuse once each year to act completely stupid and still be socially acceptable.”
  “We’re socially acceptable?”
  “Well … I was accused of it once,” Doc said.
  After the laughing and Loretta topping off the coffee cups, Herb leaned over and whispered something in Dud’s ear. Dud nodded.
  “You fellas just leave this to Dud and I,” said Herb. “We’ll take care of it and you won’t have to do a thing.”
   “Well … what is it?”
  “Doc,” Herb said, “that would spoil the surprise.”


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