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Alvin Straight: Well, they may be mad. I don't think they're mad enough to want to lose you, or your little problem.
Crystal: I don't know about that.
Alvin Straight: Well, of course, neither do I, but a warm bed and a roof sounds a mite better than eating a hot dog on a stick with an old geezer that's travelling on a lawnmower.
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Alvin Straight: Can I help you, lady?
Deer Woman: No, you can't help me. No one can help me. I've tried driving with my lights on, I've tried sounding my horn, I scream out the window, I-I roll the window down and bang on the side of the door and play Public Enemy real loud! I have prayed to St. Francis of Assisi, St. Christopher too-what the heck! I've tried everything a person can do, and still, every week, I plow into at least one deer! I have hit thirteen deer in seven weeks driving down this road, mister! And I have to drive down this road! Every day, forty miles back and forth to work! I have to drive to work, and I have to drive home!
[she looks at the open fields around her]
Deer Woman: ...Where do they come from?
[she kneels down and checks the deer's pulse]
Deer Woman: He's dead.
[she walks back towards her car]
Deer Woman: And I love deer!
[she gets in her car and drives off]
Barbara E. Robertson
Extended Reading
