Labradoodles

Okay so we'll try to start out on a healthier note today.

K-Mart Parking lot. 12 noon. Southern town, urban atmosphere.

A driver pulls in to a fast food restaurant within view of the parking lot. The driver sees a car with its hatchback open and a large box inside. There is a sign beside the car that reads, "Labradoodles for sale."
Leaving the drive-thru, the driver goes to inspect the box and the strange new breed inside.

"Look, I don't want to buy a dog. I've got too many already, but I did want to ask you what the hell these things look like."
"Sure thing man, their mom is a pure bred AKC yellow lab and their dad is a pure bred poodle. The big kind man, not those little yapper types. Anyway, these are like the new fad now for the 'Greenville' people. It's like a gold mine, man. They go for $1000-$1500 man just for some f***** up puppies. They say that they have the disposition of a lab but are good as inside dogs because they don't have dander, something like that."
"So how much are you selling these for?" The driver picks up one of the yellow, frizzy haired puppies and looks it over.
"Man, I'm making a killing. I'm only asking $650 for mine. You should see how many of these rich ass bitches have been stopping by here."
"Well thanks for filling me in. Interesting dogs--good luck."
"Thanks man--hey, if you know anybody that wants a peekabull, here's my card!"

Now we need to end this before it gets out of hand. I do need to tell you that these dogs are real. The labradoodle is indeed one of the most popular dogs for the soccer mom. Now I mean the rich soccer mom, not your regular, run of the mill Dodge mini-van mom. I'm talking VW Tourareg, MB station wagon driving, housewife that spends $20 on toilet paper. That's what I'm talking about. The labradoodle.
What the hell is next?

I can feel the frown on my face. I try to cheer myself up on the way in sometimes by reciting my favorite Lester Burnham quote:

"My job basically consists of masking my contempt for the assholes in charge, and at least once a day retiring to the men's room, so I can jerk off while I fantasize about a life that doesn't so closely resemble Hell."

Then I feel all better and...manly. Like I can whip some boss man ass.

I remember the first time I ever smoked a real cigarette. Not the handmade herbal kind that me & Rachel cooked up from spices we found in the kitchen cabinet with makeup sponges as filters...I mean the real Marlboro kind. Brandon had promised to take us to the movie, but what do we do instead? Drive around and park behind the school district office (good choice now that I think about it) and smoke. Well, I don't think I really inhaled. (Rachel, you can stop laughing now) Bootsy (as everyone called him) was always good at pretending with me, he never called me out, I guess he wanted me to feel cool so he just acted like I was really smoking.
Good friends, good times.

Pure bliss.

Yes, I live on a MILL hill...in a MILL village...the one that the newspaper writes about because nothing else ever happens in our tri-county area, the one that writes about MILL hill MENTALITY. On this MILL hill, there are a lot of secrets...stories, good ones too. Some of them I remember, others have kind of faded as I've grown up. All the old men that used to hang around Daddy's station are all gone...they always told the best ones. They knew everything--they made for good ghost stories when we had to stay with Mama to "check up" at night. My favorite, okay now I'm going to sound sadistic...one of the ones I remember well is about the babysitter. The lady that worked the third shift at the mill but babysat during the day. She lived by herself..."wasn't quite right in the head". One day, some parents got worried because their little boy never came home from her house. They go to check on him and he's not there and the woman claims that she'd been looking for him all afternoon. They walk up and down the creek calling his name. He was never found.
Until two weeks later.
She confessed that she killed the boy because he wouldn't mind her. She choked him, but he wasn't completely dead. She didn't know this, remember she wasn't quite right. She had a big hole where they buried their trash. (Now remember this is the land of the NICE'UNS as I like to call them) she threw the body down into the hole and covered it up. He was atleast four or five feet down. Imagine him when he woke up...buried alive. Sure enough, the cops dug up where she told them and found the decaying body of the five year old boy. I think he was a Hughes, can't remember though. My MaMa remembers driving over to Enoree when it happened, everyone was there she said. Everyone had come to see where she buried him.
True story. That woman was never heard from again--one of Enoree's many lost souls.

I'll "dig up" some more later--ta ta!

TAKE OUT THE PAPERS AND THE TRASH
OR YOU DON'T GET NO SPENDING CASH

When the shadows of this life have gone
I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I'll fly
I'll fly away