“The sun is sinking in the west
The cattle go down to the stream
The redwing settles in the nest
It’s time for a cowboy to dream
Purple light in the canyons
That’s where I long to be
With my three good companions
Just my rifle, pony and me
Gonna hang my sombrero
On the—”
“Grandpa, you can’t say that anymore.”
“Can’t say what?”
“Sombrero.”
“Why not?”
“Cause, grandpa—you’re white.”
“Oh c’mon. Just singin’ an old song, now.”
“Well, you have an AUX chord?”
“A what?”
“How can I plug in my phone to listen to some music?”
“You ever hear of an invention called the radio?”
“God, you’re old.”
“Mhmm. There’s two types, too: FM and AM.”
“Isn’t there XM radio nowadays?”
“Never heard about nothing like that. All I know is FM is for the tunes and AM is for the lunes.”
“What’s a lune?”
“Yeah, those religious lunatics. Maybe you don’t got those out in California.”
“Oh no… uhh.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nose bleed.”
“Ah, well look in the glove compartment. I got some spare tampons in there you can use so you don’t bleed all over my truck.”
“Grandpa! Why do you got tampons?”
“Now don’t be getting me in trouble with your grandmother now. I keep ’em in there for exactly this reason—ain’t nothing better at stopping nose bleed than a tampon. This was a fact I learned when I was about your age from a 15-year-old Timmy Waters. Must’ve been just after Kennedy died—”
“You were around when Kennedy died? You’re that old?”
“Of course. Lived my whole life in Dallas. Anyway, Timmy and I, we were out walking, and his nose just started bleeding. He whipped one of them suckers out and plugged that tube. Timmy always got nosebleeds. Headaches too. So his momma made him start carrying around these tampons so he wouldn’t bleed all over his shirt. Course we teased him a bit, but in hindsight, it was damn smart thing to do. Poor bastard—turns out he got those nose bleeds it turned out from some tumors in his brain, just behind his nose.”