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〃Yeah；〃 said Twilly。 〃One team scored more points than the other team； and then we went home。〃
Now the class was snickering and it was Dr。 Boston's turn to manage his anger。
〃Look； it's simple；〃 Twilly said。 〃I blew up the building to help him grow a conscience； OK？ To make him think about the greedy wrongheaded direction his life was heading。 I put it all in a letter。〃
〃Yes； the letter's in the file；〃 said Dr。 Boston。 〃But I noticed you didn't sign your name to it。〃
Twilly spread his hands。 〃Do I look like an idiot？ It's against the law； blowing up financial institutions。〃
〃And just about anything else。〃
〃So I've been advised；〃 Twilly muttered。
〃But； still； at a subconscious level…〃
〃I don't have a subconscious； Doctor。 That's what I'm trying to explain。 Everything that happens in my brain happens right on the surface； like a stove； where I can see it and feel it and taste the heat。〃 Twilly sat down and began massaging his temples with his fingertips。
Dr。 Boston said； 〃That would make you biologically unique in the species； Mr。 Spree； not having a subconscious。 Don't you dream in your sleep？〃
〃Never。〃
〃Seriously。〃
〃Seriously；〃 Twilly said。
〃Never once？〃
〃Not ever in my whole life。〃
Another probationer waved a hand。 〃C'mon； man； you never had no nightmares？〃
〃Nope；〃 Twilly said。 〃I can't dream。 Maybe if I could I wouldn't be here now。〃
He licked the tip of his pencil and resumed work on the essay； which he submitted to Dr。 Boston after class。 Dr。 Boston did not acknowledge reading Twilly's position； but the next morning and every morning for the following four weeks； an armed campus security guard was posted in the rear of the classroom。 Dr。 Boston never again called on Twilly Spree to speak。 At the end of the term； Twilly received a notarized certificate saying he'd successfully pleted anger…management counseling； and was sent back to his probation officer； who mended him on his progress。
If only they could see me now； Twilly thought。 Preparing for a hijack。
First he'd followed the litterbug home； to one of those exclusive islands off Las Olas Boulevard； near the beach。 Nice spread the guy had： old two…story Spanish stucco with barrel…tile shingles and vines crawling the walls。 The house was on a cul…de…sac； leaving Twilly no safe cover for lurking in his dirty black pickup。 So he found a nearby construction site…a mansion going up。 The architecture was pre…Scarface Medellin； all sharp angles and marble facings and smoked glass。 Twilly's truck blended in nicely among the backhoes and cement mixers。 Through the twilight he strolled back toward the litterbug's home； where he melted into a hedge of thick ficus to wait。 Parked in the driveway next to the Range Rover was a Beemer convertible； top down； which Twilly surmised would belong to the wife； girlfriend or boyfriend。 Twilly had a notion that made him smile。
An hour later the litterbug came out the front door。 He stood in the amber light under the stucco arch and fired up a cigar。 Moments later a woman emerged from the house； slowly backing out and pulling the door shut behind her； bending forward at the waist； as if saying good…bye to a small child or perhaps a dog。 As the litterbug and his female panion crossed the driveway； Twilly saw her fanning the air in an exaggerated way； indicating she didn't much care for cigar smoke。 This brought another smile to Twilly's face as he slipped from the hedge and hustled back to his truck。 They'll be taking the ragtop； he thought。 So she can breathe。
Twilly followed the couple to an Italian restaurant on an unscenic stretch of Federal Highway； not far from the seaport。 It was a magnificent choice for what Twilly had in mind。 Litterbug parked the convertible in true dick…head style； diagonally across two spaces。 The strategy was to protect one's expensive luxury import from scratches and dings by preventing mon folks from parking next to it。 Twilly was elated to witness this selfish stunt。 He waited ten minutes after the cigar…smoking man and cigar…hating woman had entered the restaurant； to make sure they'd been seated。 Then he sped off on his quest。
Her stage name was Tia and she was already up on their table； already twirling her mailorder ponytail and peeling off her lacy top when the stink hit her like a blast furnace。 Damn； she thought； did a sewer pipe break？
And the three guys all grins and high fives； wearing matching dark blue coveralls with filthy sleeves； laughing and smoking and sipping their six…dollar beers and going Tee…uh； izzat how you say it？ Kinda name is Tee…uh？ And all three of them waving fifties； for God's sake； stinking like buzzard puke and singsonging her name； her stage name； and slipping brand…new fifty…dollar bills into her G…string。 So now Tia had a major decision to make； a choice between the unbelievable gutter…rot stench and the unbelievably easy money。 And what she did was concentrate mightily on breathing through her mouth； so that after a while the reek didn't seem so unbearable and the truth was； hey； they were nice…enough guys。 Regular working stiffs。 They even apologized for stinking up the joint。 After a few table dances they asked Tia to sit and join them because they had the wildest story for her to hear。 Tia said OK； just a minute； and hurried to the dressing room。 In her locker she found a handkerchief； upon which she sprinkled expensive Paris perfume； another unwanted gift from another smitten customer。 She returned to the table to find an open bottle of the club's priciest champagne； which was almost potable。 The crew in the dirty blue coveralls was making a sloppy toast to somebody； clinking their glasses and imploring Tia to sit down； c'mon； sit。 Have some bubbly。 They couldn't wait to tell her what had happened； all three chattering simultaneously； raising their voices； trying to take charge of the storytelling。 Tia； holding the scented hankie under her nose； found herself authentically entertained and of course not believing a word they said； except for the part about their occupations； which they could hardly embellish； given the odor。
How e you don't believe we got our load hijacked！ one of them exclaimed。
Because it's ridiculous； said Tia。
Really it was more of a trade； said one of his pals。 The young man give us three grand cash and the use of his pickup and told us to meet back here in a hour。
Tia flared her eyebrows。 This total stranger； he hands you three thousand bucks and drives off in a…
All fifties； one of the men said； waving a handful of bills。 A grand each！
Tia； giggling through the handkerchief： You guys are seriously fulla shit。
No； ma'am； we ain't。 We might smell like we are； but we ain't。
The one waving the fattest wad was talking loudest。 What we told you； he said； that's the honest…to…God truth of how we e to be here tonight； watchin' you dance。 And if you don't believe it； Miz Tee…uh； just e out back to the parkin' lot in about fifteen minutes when the boy gets back。
Maybe I will； said Tia。
But by then she was busy entertaining a table of cable…TV executives； so she missed seeing Twilly Spree drive up to the neon…lit strip club in a full…sized county garbage