Passing the bottle opener, Pete Mullen announced that one day soon he would be breaking free from the stranglehold hold of Parker’s Falls.
“Maybe I’ll go to college. Then I could get a job in some big office building. Hell, I might even have a secretary.”
“I suppose you’d be driving a T-Bird and living in a high-rise apartment building too,” fired back Tommy Strand, Pete’s supposed best friend.
Laughter erupted from the rest of the group followed by a vigorous round of skinning.
“Truth is Pete, you ain’t going nowhere. Your gonna be just like your old man working these pumps and trying to get the grease out from under your nails. You ain’t got the nerve to leave and you sure as hell don’t have the smarts.”
Taking a long, slow pull off his beer, Mullen felt the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t stand the thought of wasting another year in this worn out little town.
But somehow Pete Mullen instinctively knew that Tommy Strand was right–nobody ever gets out of Parker’s Falls. Choking down the last of his warm Grain Belt, Pete Mullen quietly asked for the bottle opener.
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