Town outing

They didn't know this was coming. Rock rode in Elaine's station wagon with Ron and Elaine up front and he in the back with Susy and Jamey. They noticed as they drove through Park Hill on JFK Boulevard toward I-40 that a festival was underway. Thousands of people were gathered around the few storefronts there. A large sign was strung across the street that read, 'TOWN OUTING."
"What the fuck is this?" Rock said.
"I don't know," Ron said. "I didn't know anything about it."
They continued along JFK, down the hill across I-40, and as they slowed for a red light noticed runners streaming past—a few at first, and then hundreds. There was a road race in progress with no traffic control.
Susy pulled out her cell phone and aimed it toward a woman running past the car. "Smile, bitch," she said.
Rock later looked at the photo of the woman scowling.
"Why did you call her a bitch?" he said.
Susy could not explain.

Gu

Mike Huckabee, the former Arkansas governor, had handed out this special republican campaign shampoo for weeks. Rock washed his hair with it near the start of a long run, where many people would soon gather, and suddenly felt compelled to rinse away the telltale red foam. He didn't want people to think he endorsed any particular cause or party. All Rock cared about was the free shampoo.
Seconds after that note of frugalness, Rock realized he had forgotten to bring any energy gel. He stood near fellow runners Rob Wistrand, Ken Starnz, several women, including Elaine Gimblet and Kacey Smith, and Kurt "The Run and Puke Kid" Wagner, a good friend since high school.
"Aw, shit,  I forgot to bring any Gu," Rock said. "I got nine million tubes of it at home, and I got none here in my pants. And I'm out of luck. You know, you just can't go buy Gu on a moments notice."
"No, you can't," someone said. "You just can't."
"It's almost impossible to find, and then when you do, it seems as if it's always tied in with some other special," Rock said. "You know, like, 'Buy ten tubes of Gu and we'll give you two pairs of running panties.' Plus, it never fails, I go into a running store for a few tubes of Gu, and I end up spending a hundred and seventy-eight dollars on all sorts of other crap."

Blubber

Andrea Kendrick, perhaps the best high school softball player Arkansas had ever produced, decided to play college for the University of Alabama. As Rock researched a story for the newspaper, he found that she made her choice based on the availability for Alabama's softball program of a certain kind of whale blubber which made it easier for pitchers to get action on their pitches.
Kendrick explained to Rock that it was perfectly legal for softball pitchers to apply blubber to softballs, but that most programs couldn't afford it.

Hash homocide

Rock and his fellow Hash House Harrier buddies drank from cans of Milwaukee's Best Light on his gravel driveway.
John Kohn sat down in the back seat of Rock's twenty-year-old Chevy Cavalier and began to dig through empty beer and soda pop cans and newspapers and fast-food containers on the floorboard for a place to put his feet. He picked up a tattered McDonald's bag. "Holy shit," he said as he turned his head from the bag. "How long has this been back here? It fucking reeks, man."
Everyone laughed.
Rock watched John Good, clearly the drunkest of his guests, climb from the front seat and run into his backyard, where Greg Pipe stood with his back toward them as he peed in the grass. Rock suddenly realized Good had a pistol in hand, the same gun Rock thought he had returned to his father years before. Apparently it had been in his car. Rock knew it had a hairpin trigger, and started to warn Good, but it was too late. Good had already tossed the gun in the air. It was nearly certain to fire when it landed, which it did no more than a foot behind Pipe, whose back immediately arched away from the gunshot. He collapsed to the ground.
Rock thought to call for an ambulance, but hesitated. Pipe was shot. He looked dead, and Rock knew big trouble had arrived.

Luigi's

This circumstance for Rock was nearly as good as he any he had experienced, and certainly far beyond what he commonly expected. He had just eaten at a pricey, renowned Italian restaurant in Indianapolis with several Little Rock Hash House Harriers and two former girlfriends, Kelly and Jenny.
They were headed to an Indianapolis Colts game and everyone was in high spirits. Rock was the first to walk out. As he did, he held the door open for a man and his party of three or four others so they could enter.
"Welcome to Luigi's," said Rock in the tone of an eager maitre d'. "I would advise you to skip the special. It sucks."
The man laughed. "So, don't get the tortellini."
"No, they're wasting their time on it. It's keeping them away from the pizzas."
The group stopped and looked at Rock, clearly amused. "I don't believe pizza is on their menu," the man said, smiling.
Rock tilted his head back. "Sir, numerous college students work here. I can assure you there is a heavy wooden roller and a bag of pot in the kitchen. Trust me, they can make you a pizza."