In the Company of Blue And Redd

I was riding in a dump truck next to two guys: One was the driver and the other was the co-driver. The co-driver was

a young man same as I am, mid-thirties. He had a thin body frame and dirty-blonde clean cut hair. The driver was his

coworker, probably, his best friend. The driver seemed to be in his early-forties with a little thick body build and slightly-

greying dark hair. He was clean-cut, too.

"Where're you going ?, " said the driver. He kept his eyes on the road, while he asked.

"Uh, northwest," I said.

"We're going that direction, too," the co-driver said. "Kind of."

"I'm Blue Retton. This is my business associate, Redd Puller." Blue was still driving.

"You're Blue and he's Redd?" I said to them.

"That's correct. Sounds funny, doesn't it??" Blue sounded serious. "Say, what's your name?"

"It's Whiley Jones," I said to Blue and Redd.

"Whiley? Not Whitey," Blue said.

"Like Wiley E. Coyote," Redd said.

"Yes, but there's an 'h' in the spelling." Blue suddenly stopped driving their dump truck. He glanced at his sideview

mirror. I didn't hear any siren, but a highway police car appeared at Blue's side of the truck. "Any problem, officer?"

"You boys heading anywhere?" Blue, Redd, and I looked at each other. Blue looked back at the highway officer.

"Just Northwest-South," Blue said to the officer.

"Don't leave any farther than that," the officer said and walked back to his patrol car. He disappeared, driving away.

Blue looked at Redd and I. "He must like dump truck businesses."