shirley was flying. it wasn't the best dope she ever smoked, not by any means, but the price was right. like absolutely free, no questions asked.
these two guys from duquesne, iowa - or was it dubuque, iowa? - wherever - were a hoot. they acted liked total squares from squaresville in some ways, but they weren't cheesegrinders, giving their dope away like that, and if you asked them anything they gave you a big smile and an answer.
"so what did you guys say your names were again?"
"mister burgoyne," mister burgoyne responded with a big smile, "and mister o'toole."
"i got that part, i meant what are your first names? besides mister? i mean, now that we're the best friends in the whole wide world, we ought to know each other's first names, right?"
mister burgoyne and mister o'toole looked at each other.
harold p sternhagen, who had inhaled a little less than the others, felt a little resentful that shirley - the light of his life - was paying so much attention to the two strangers. he knew it was stupid - it was their dope, after all - but he couldn't help it.
at first he had been euphoric just to be in the same room with her. now he wished she would look his way just once.
"johnny, " said harold. "all burgoynes must be named johnny, right?"
"ha, ha," burgoyne laughed happily. "that's me - johnny."
"and o'toole - let me think," harold continued. "what's a good name for an o'toole? how about - pete? pete o'toole. no, that's a little too thuggish. how about peter o'toole! that's got a nice ring to it. a nice manly ring."
"yes, peter o'toole," mister o'toole agreed, and they all laughed.
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