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all day. First, nothin happened, an I figgered ain’t nobody home. I rang two or three more times, an was about to go on my way, when suddenly the door opened. It was a lady standin there, wearin a red silk gown, an carryin a cigarette holder in her hand. She was older than me, but she was still very beautiful, with long wavy brown hair an a lot of makeup. When she saw me, she looked me over two or three times, an then gave a big ole smile. Afore I had a chance to say anythin at all, she opened the door an invited me in.
    Mrs Hopewell was her name, but she says for me to call her Alice.
    Mrs Hopewell – Alice – took me into a great big room with high ceilins an a lot of fancy furniture an ast me if I wanted somethin to drink. I nodded, an she says, ‘What’ll it be then, bourbon, gin, scotch?’ But I remembered what Slim had tole us about drinkin on the job, so I tole her a CokeCola would be just fine. When she come back with the CokeCola, I went into my spiel. About halfway through, Mrs Hopewell says, ‘Thank you, Forrest. I have heard enough. I’ll buy them.’
    ‘What?’ I ast. I ain’t believin my luck.
    ‘The encyclopedias,’ she says. ‘I’ll take a set.’
    She ast me how much to write the check for, an I explained about how she ain’t really buyin them, just makin a contract to buy the annual yearbook for the rest of her life, but she waved me off. ‘Just show me where to sign,’ she said, an that’s what I did.
    Meantime, I took a swig of the CokeCola.
Uggh!
it tasted horrible! For a moment I thought she done poured me somethin else besides CokeCola, but in fact she hadn’t, account of she done left the can right there on the side table.
    ‘And now, Forrest, I am gonna go slip into somethin more comfortable,’ Mrs Hopewell says.
    I am thinkin she looks comfortable enough already, but of course this is none of my bidness.
    ‘Yes’m,’ I says.
    ‘Just call me Alice,’ she says, and disappears out of the room with her skirts sashayin behind her.
    I set there lookin at the CokeCola an gettin thirstier and thirstier. I really wish I had a RC or somethin. Anyhow, I figger she is gonna be a few minutes, so I gone on back to where the kitchen was. I have never seen such a kitchen as this! I mean, it is bigger than the whole house Jenny growed up in, with tiles an wood an stainless stuff an lights that come out of the ceiling! I looked in the icebox to see if there was another CokeCola, thinkin maybe that one had just gone bad. To my surprise there was about fifty cans of it in there, an so I popped open another one an took a great big swig.
Arrrrragh!
I had to spit it out. It tasted like shit!
    Well, actually it didn’t taste exactly like shit, whatever shit tastes like. It tasted more like a combination of turpentine an bacon grease, with a little sugar an fizzy-water thowed in. I am thinkin somebody done played a trick on Mrs Hopewell.
    Just about this time, Mrs Hopewell come through the door. ‘Ah, Forrest, I see you have found the CokeCola. I didn’t know you were that thirsty, you poor boy. Here, let me put that in a glass for you.’ She had put on a little pink nighty that showed everthin she had, which was considerable, an was wearin little fluffy pink slippers, an I am thinkin that she must be gettin ready for bed.
    But now I was really on the spot. She got a fresh glass that sparkled like a rainbow an poured the CokeCola over some ice. I could hear it cracklin in the glass an was wonderin how I was gonna drink it when Mrs Hopewell says she will be right back, that she is goin to ‘freshen up.’
    I was about to thow the CokeCola out again, when a idea come to me. Maybe I could make it better. I was rememberin the time back at the University when I wanted a limeade so bad I could just taste it, but there wadn’t no limes, an my mama had sent me some peaches an I made a
peach-ade
by squeezin the peaches through a sock. Bad as it was, I am thinkin that I can salvage somethin out of this