I had not been to Dollie’s...

I had not been to Dollie’s in more than four years when I stepped through its roadhouse doors back in the autumn. When my ATF – who just so happens to be named Autumn, though I think some of you know who she is and has already partook in her company – moved to Wise Guys, I was more than happy to leave behind its door without a lock, its shitty-looking girls and its dangerous reputation (a man was shot to death at the front door a couple years ago, or so I think I read somewhere on TUSCL). But I heard that Autumn decided to go back to Dollie’s, and so of course I followed her back there.

Why did she come back? Fuck if I know, because the two days I dropped in she was nowhere to be found.

On a Friday afternoon I parked in the gravel parking lot across the road from the huge farm (one time I saw rows upon rows of cornstalks; the tableau was beautiful, yet the juxtaposition between that and Dollie’s still befuddles me). When I walked in there sat a portly old gentleman, collecting the three-dollar cover and giving me drink coupons that, if I recall correctly, didn’t discount the Bud Light I ordered. If they don’t discount anything, what in the hell are these damn drink coupons good for?