It was classic Collin Jefferson fare, and the boys responded again with chuckles. It was the very kind of tall tale Beep related at dinner sometimes. It was destined to be the beginnings of a monstrous lie or the gospel truth, depending on your gullibility. I took the orange crayon from the box and began to create the halo of hair on paper. When Jefferson raised his hand to swear to the truth, I did my best to capture the moment, all the while following the story amid the swirl of voices and clatter drifting on the ether cloud inside McCutchen’s.
I pushed myself along the bench to get near enough to hear. I caught sight of an old man sitting at the bar. He swiveled on his stool, listening intently from across the small dining room. I’m certain he was too far away to hear much of the story
