Hey there's micro. This is the way I heard it's. The only podcast for the curious mind with a short attention span: hey if you already picked up my book the way I heard it. Please accept my heartfelt thanks. I am grateful and if you liked it I'd, be grateful, again. If you took a second to review it over at Amazon by Publishers as the reviews are really important, and I'm trying to impress my publisher, if you haven't picked up a copy, you can find one at micro, dot, com, slash book. The book itself is a combination of stories from this podcast interrupted by a series of story

from my own misspent youth and dubious career in the world of nonfiction television, eight brag, but it is New York Times best seller and my mom says it's. The feel good hit the holiday season had an about that, but we do have a few autographed copies left at micro, dot, com, slash book and I'm told they would make ideal Christmas presents hashtag just say and pick up a copy. It micro, dotcom, slash book stuff me in somebody stocking I'd, be grateful if the Wired TED stands perfectly still in the Louisiana Woods and looks for signs of prey. He loves the hunt, but today you'd rather be home. The heat is stifling. The rifle feels heavy in his hands and there's no sign of game. So tat

now's his mind to wander and soon he's thinking about the waitress back in Dallas, the one he met five years ago, the one who got away they met at the lunch counter at Marcos. Tat had been a postal worker back then and stopped in one afternoon for quick bite. The waitress hadn't Honest she'd been busy writing. Something must be mighty. Important said tat to make such a pretty face, scrunch up like that, the waitress jumped at the sound of his voice, Sorry, MR I was someplace else. What can a gay? She was a tiny little thing, not even five feet. Tall or blonde hair was on combed and her eyes were wide and very blue. I'd, like a b l, tee, said TED,

CUP of coffee, you got it, you said, but save room for dessert. The cherry pies to die for it thanks at TED I'll, do that the waitress wrote up his water, passed it back to the cook and went back to her papers. What are you working on TED asked nothing. She said it's just a poem. What's it about as TED the waitress considered, the postal worker had a warm smile and a trustworthy face. It's about a nice boy who falls in love with the wrong. Earl, maybe you'd like to read it to me, said TED. So the waitress did you dont want to marry me honey, though, to hear you ask me is sweet if you did you'd regret it tomorrow, for I'm only a girl of the street, Time was when I gladly have listened before. I was tainted with shame, but it wouldn't be fair to you, honey men, laughed when they mention my name back there on the farm in the brain

I might have said yes to you, then, when I thought the world was a playground teeming with Santa Claus. Men but I left the old home for the city to play and it's a mad dirty world, never knowing how little of pity it holds for a slip of a girl, the waitress stop reading. That's all I got you said what do you think well said: TED, I'm hoping for a happy ending the waitress offered a sad smile. Aren't we all mister? Aren't we all five years later said, here's a sound that yanks him back to the hunt.

Something is approaching in the distance something large TED clicks off the safety of his rifle and wait to see what might appear in the clearing. He understands the stakes. He understands the danger, but his thoughts are still with the waitress. He recalls their second meeting. She was still behind the counter at Marco's when he walked in still writing her pretty face still scrunched up and concentration. You are right, said dead cherry pie was to die for once again the waitress jumped at the sound of his voice. You gotta quit snake turn up on me. Mister TED. Laugh, I'm sorry about that. I thought you saw me come in the waitress port and some coffee house, the poem coming he asked chipping away at it. She said the waitress picked up where she left off. She went quietly so the other customers couldn't hear her lips very close to TED's ear.

I soon got a job in the course with nothing but looks at a form. I had a new man every evening my kisses were thrilling and warm. Then I fell for the line of a junkie a slim devotee of the hop and those dreams, and the juice of poppy had got me before. I could stop, but I didn't care. They loved me just to lie in his arms was delight, but his ardor grew cold and he left me in a Chinatown hop joint one night. The waitress paused and brushed wait. Tier TED wanted to take her hand, wanted to comfort her. He wanted to tell her that people can change. Even a girl from the street, but the waitress wasn't finished dont spring. That old gag of reforming a girl hardly ever goes back to many are eager and waiting to guide her feet off the track. A man can break,

Ray commandment and the world will still let him a hand. Yet a girl that has loved but unwisely is an outcast all over the land. Tat could take no more. He never seen such sadness in such a pretty face. Listen to me. He said one day a man is going to walk through those doors and sweep you off your feet. A good man, a man who doesn't care about your past and from that moment on your life, will never be the same. Do you really think so asked the waiters TED looked earnestly into her wide blue eyes and said? Maybe he already has for the next three months the postal worker stopped by Marco's every day for a quick bite, but some poetry on the side and for a while there it looked like the waitress might write him into her story, but one day

the waitress was gone. Her replacement was Edna a sixty five year old grandmother with a beehive and a snag tooth who gave poor dead the bad news Donna where she went said. Edna said she wouldn't be back said she fell and the love of her life. Now, what can I get? You TED was stunned. He swallowed hard and looked blankly down at the menu, but the menu had nothing. He wanted. Edna poured some coffee try. The cherry by she said it's to die for, Five years later, hidden in the Louisiana Woods TED can still remember the heartbreak, even as his prey draws ever closer even has his fellow hunters raise their rifles alongside his even as the stolen Ford. Press the hill on highway, one fifty four and slow.

Down at the intersection in the clearing, even is he and the rest of the posse stand up an open fire with machine guns from the woods on the side of the room God when the shooting finally stops one hunt that thirty six rounds of hot lead perforate, the stolen Ford, many of which also perforate the man behind the wheel? The smoke clears TED, slowly, approaches. What's left of the driver, it's him. Right. Justice is finally caught up with the bank robber who killed twelve cops in cold blood, then TED considers the passenger she's a tiny thing, a slip of a girl not even five feet tall. Her blonde hair is uncombed and her dead eyes or wide and, Blue, hangs his head and closes his eyes and recalls the final stanza from the poem. She read him five years before

you see how it is. Don't you honey I'd marry you now. If I good I'd, go with you back to the country, but I know it won't do any good for I'm. Only a poor branded woman and I can't get away from the past good bye and God bless you for asking, but I'll stick it out. Now, till the last, you probably don't remember: TED Hinton, the former postal worker turned deputy, who was hired to hunt down a notorious bank robber and you probably don't remember a poem called the street girl

but you might remember the waitress who wrote it the one who got away the aspiring poet who might have found a happy ending with good man but chose instead become the better half of a most wanted couple, a couple of crooks called Body and Clyde. Anyway. That's the way out.