At Work, Me and Bernie
We drove on past the golf course. “Martin Ramirez and Ezra Printz were both in the Stockton mental hospital at the same time,” Bernie said. “Ezra Printz handled PR on the Greed shoot. You found that film can in Death Valley.” Hey! I’d almost forgotten that. My tail started swishing back and forth on the seat. And then I remembered something from that Death Valley cave: a skull. Uh-oh. “What are you barking about, boy? You can’t be hungry.”
No, I hadn’t been barking about food, but now that he mentioned it …
“And in that film can do we find film? No – we find a painting by Martin Ramirez. But suppose there was film in the can at one time, maybe when Ezra Printz came the mental hospital in Stockton. See where we’re going with this?”
“The question is – ” Bernie began, and then suddenly stopped. He’d noticed the sprinklers spraying water all over the golf course. “What the hell? Don’t they realize there’s only one aquifer? Don’t they know it took millions of years for that aquifer to fill?”
I put my paw on his knee. The car swerved a bit. I took in the lovely scent of water.
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