Dante did a startled double-take as Randal walked into the Quick
Stop.
"Is that a . . . towel?" he asked, staring at the long piece of white
terrycloth hanging out of Randal's pocket.
"What, this? Yeah." Randal headed to the back of the store to
scrutinize the ever-unchanging contents of the soda cooler.
Dante waited for a moment, but no further information was
forthcoming.
"Don't make me ask," he said finally.
Ask what?" Randal selected a bottle of Mello Yello and cracked it
open.
Jesus. "Ask why you have a towel in your pocket!"
"Can't."
"Can't?"
"Can't make you ask. Whether or not you ask is up to you. It's not my
decision to make." Randal joined Dante behind the counter.
"Knock it off. I don't feel like playing one of your games. Are you
gonna tell me about the towel or not?"
"It's a tribute." Randal swigged his soda.
"'It's a tribute.'" Dante repeated the words blankly, as he had found
himself doing so often throughout the course of his relationship with
Randal.
"It's a tribute," Randal confirmed.
"A towel is a tribute."
"Yeah." Another swig from the bottle. "You know the Hitchhiker's
Guide trilogy?"
"Oh. Planning to hop aboard a Vogon spaceship?"
Randal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and capped his soda.
"First of all, that was a weak reference. Second of all, Douglas
Adams died."
"Douglas Adams . . . ? Shit! Really?"
"Yeah." For once in his life, Randal looked quite solemn. "Had a
heart attack yesterday morning. While he was working out, I
hear."
"Jesus." Dante raked a hand through his hair. "How old was he?"
"Forty-nine."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a moment. Randal fiddled with the edge of his
towel.
"Hey, I have an idea." Dante grabbed a staple gun out from under the
counter. "Gimme that," he added, whisking the towel from Randal's
pocket.
"Hey!"
"No, check this out, you'll love it."
Dante carefully stapled the towel to the wall, one staple in each
corner. Then he rummaged around until he found a black permanent
marker, which he used to write on the towel in big block letters.
and after some quick mental math, he added underneath,
1952-2001
Then he stepped back and studied it in satisfaction. "What do you
think?"
"It's maudlin, cryptic, and morbid, not to mention a defacement of a
public institution," Randal replied. "Highly appropriate."
Dante nodded. "Yeah, I thought so too."
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