you could save my life with some coffee.
you don't want to hear about it. or maybe you do.
just checking.
impromptu field trip. i'm broadening their minds. and sparing them the sight of their beloved chauffeur barfing his guts out.
i hate horses. how was the canyon? honey-suckle out yet?
i hate that canyon. i hate this this whole plateau. too many goddamn ghosts. leave it to them i say. san diego, that's where i'm going. or oxnard. i like the sound of that. ox- nard.
oh lord protect us, another romantic pale face in love with the desert.
try growing up here. ox-nard. uno mas, see-boo-play. speaking of romantic pale faces, the rumor mill is in high gear again.
that funny looking guy from window rock. the bia lawyer.
no! say it isn't so!
thank you.
thanks for the joe.
you're a credit to the community.
all right children, looks sharp! this is a school day! and no talking loud!
you must learn to shed your high- strung ways, pale face. you must learn the spirit joy in patience, peace, and making fifty or sixty bucks.
that near oxnard?
recount! recount!
so how's our star pupil feeling today?
latin for "i don't have the slightest fucking idea".
uh oh. hocus pocus time.
depends what the hand trembler says. people call them in when they think a witch or a yei is trying to sprinkle corpse sickness in their hogan, or if the night people have been hanging around too much. night people screw around a lot, but they're good at warning of evil ghosts.
they come as coyotes.
too much fucking sky in the desert. it pushes on you. sometimes i wonder if anyone in heaven even knows this place is here.
above the stove.
-- messing with mary? if you're smart you say thank you very much and forget about it. but if you're heavy traditional, and mary's people are serious traditional, you have an enemy ghost way.
goddamn expensive. it's a sing to purify and drive off the corpse sickness. two days of dancing and ceremony and feeding the whole damn village. not even to mention hiring the yataallii, if you can even find one these days. and you can bet they don't come cheap. but every clan does it a bit different. especially mary's.
the bitter sky clan. hard core reservation. no lights, no running water, no hbo. their village is out on the edge of old woman butte. million miles from anything. witch country. settled right there in the dead people land where no one else would, right on top of the old anasazi village. they're a dying clan. just the old ones now. all alone out there in the middle of nothing. they can keep it.
depends, i guess. sometimes you go along because it's a village thing, or you don't want to disappoint grandma. but sometimes, when you're alone out there, far from town, and the wind kicks up and sneaks into your hogan.  i don't know.
don't -- don't hurt me, man. my wallet's in the dresser.
what do you want?
you ought to have that nose looked at, man.
what? mary? i don't know.
no, really. i don't know. the school maybe.
i'm just the driver, y'know?