“I could do a job like that,” he said aloud, sitting alone in the passenger seat of the truck, sipping on the to-go cup of Coke from the meal Dad had graciously paid for, who was busy inside the convenience store right now paying for set of lotto tickets, one of which just might bring enough money into the family to pay for all the loans and bills, including the thousands upon thousands spent on Junior's college education so he could study Philosophy - Descartes, Lacan, Sartre, all those great Frenchmen with their great ideas who influenced all of modern thought and all of whom probably had a job, as Dad would say while on the phone with some old friend as Mom sat harmlessly in the corner, knitting.