Gene and Alvin

The Cowsino in the Saddle Up Saloon over at Carrot Ranch is open again!

This month’s slot machine prompt:

Gene and Alvin

Gene was browsing Yelp when he ran across an interesting little local entertainment tidbit. He poked his twin brother Alvin, who was focused on the road ahead, in the ribs and said, “You’re not gonna believe this, but—”

“Cowsino’s open”?

“Dude, Cowsino’s ohh-pen!”

Nothing needed to be said. Alvin took a right at the corner, drove around the block, and faster than a knife fight in a phone booth, the red 1984 Fiesta was headed back east down Elmhurst, the little motor going for all it was worth at 52 miles per hour.

“I can’t believe it,” Alvin said.

“I know. This is great, man.”

“Cowseeeeeeno!” they said as one.

“Eyes on the road, Al,” said Gene.

“Sorry.”

“No apology needed, man. We just wanna get to the cowsino in one piece.”

The brothers drove with the windows down and the radio up and after a few blocks Gene paused the tape deck between the Doobie Brothers singing about a lazy flowing river and castles in the sky and asked Alvin why he thought mom and dad told them they were twins. “I mean,” Gene said. “We don’t look anything alike, right? Like look at you, your fat—”

“Husky.”

“Husky, ok, and I’m th—”

“Not husky.”

“Yeah, so how are we twins?”

“Don’t know, Geno. Never really thought about it before, man.”

“Don’t you—”

“Care? No. You’re my bro, bro. What else is there to know, bro?”

Gene thought about that and nodded and reached over put the music back on. “Yeah,” he said.

A few minutes later Gene said, “We’re almost—”

“There?” said Alvin. “I know, bro.”

Alvin parked the Ford under the billboard advertising the loosest slots in town and the twins, mismatched heads held high, marched with heavy billfolds into the cowsino.

Forty minutes later, slump-shouldered and sad-eyed, they walked out of the cowsino: broke, busted, but far from disgusted.

“How much you got left?” said Gene.

“Three bucks,” said Alvin.

“Not enough for take out,” said Gene.

“Or White Castle,” said Alvin.

The brothers drove home in silence, had a late dinner of Hostess Ding Dongs and Cheetos with a half a can each of Miller 64 and called it a night.

“G’night, Alvin,” said Gene.

“G’night, Gene,” said Alvin.

“Today was a good day.”

“That it was.”

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