Grant Gilliland

Tuesday, 2:13 pm…

We find Germaine and his dog Arby at Collen Dubose memorial park, meeting up for the first time since Germaine left home in 2002 for djembe college in Halifax.

I’m awfully sorry to hear about your business going under while I was away, man. I mean, you were a couple-thousand-deep just two months into the laundering…I mean, laundry business. Made some g’s. That’s a decent wage for a former clubhouse watchdog. What happ-uh? I guess that people-on’t trust dogff with their shirts and underwears these-a-ma-days. What’s um? Did y’ need more Peen-o Nwar? No man, this is good…better than that Kroger stuff. I figured we’d feel better if we drank expensive stuff today, mostly in your honor. I know you can’t really afford this class-ay nect-r nowadays, since you’ve hit rock bottom. Me?…Pfff…i’m kickin’ er into high gear. Yeah, no, higher even…But I just scored a “b” on my first performance piece. That’s pretty good actually, ifff you know how haard thiss school grades dude..Y’ont really actually know. Pretty good. Check it out, right here in my report-book…Hey, remember when we used to go to the community rec-center and work charms with the ballerinas? Man, if I wasn’t all 29 already…i’d go back over there an’ show them what’s up with this goatee here. I mean, girls at school just dig a guy with some bo-hweemian flavor. I figure that I could just go up to some lil’ missh and tell her she’s mah muse…Bonkety drums, bonkety drums, ffeel d’m rhythm…Man, thiss Pino’s kindoff strong…Whoo. Y’know Ardy? Mann, stop it…