A man pulls up in a red truck. Red truck. I remember a red truck. Was it this truck? It has a bumper sticker which reads “Rednecks for Change.” The man parks the truck and gets out. He has a shaved head with a brown and grey beard, the wiry kind. The kind of facial hair that looks like someone shaved a bunch of pubic hair off of some 50-year-olds who had never groomed their “downstairs” and then stuck patches of it on this guy’s face with super glue. His eyes are small and squinty, and his nose is somehow small but bulbous at the same time.
“You Tulsa?” he shouts at me from only a few feet away.
“That’s what I’m telling people.”
He musters a tiny laugh.
“Hey, you want to grab a coffee or something?” I ask
“You know what man? I actually got one with me. You got any interest in seeing where I found you?”
“Oh my god, yes. Yes, please!”
“All right then. Where did you park? You can follow me there,” he says while looking around the parking lot.
“I didn’t park. I don’t know who I am. I don’t even know if I have a car.”
“Oh, right. That makes sense. Well, I’m not coming back into the city. How you going to get back?” he asks
“I don’t know. I’ll walk if I have to.”
“You can’t walk. It’s too far,” he turns his eyebrows up at me then squints a bit until his eyes almost disappear from his face.
“Look, Joey, right now, I have no place to go. I don’t really know anyone, and I’ve been completely relying on the kindness of strangers. I’m basically homeless, and it’s likely that someone or possibly even multiple people are trying to murder me. Getting back to the city makes no difference to me. I just need to find out who I am and what happened to me.”
“All right then, hop the fuck in. I’ll take you out there.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I put my hands into prayer pose and bow my head slightly.
“Now now. No need for that voodoo shit,” Joey offers.