Untitled IV

While I was away on my Mexican vacation, my faithful attorney was able to get the criminal assault charges dropped from the incident at the junk yard. This of course came at the cost of a promissory note signed in blood regarding ownership of my first born son, and titles to the last two pieces of my personal property. There were other considerations and sanctions but I won’t bore you, my dedicated readers with the gory details. As it were, enough problems arose recently to give me the realization that the adage “A wooden bed is better than a golden coffin�? makes a lot of sense. I was thinking about writing a book of my favorite sayings when I realized that I was running out of grocery sacks to write on, and most of my crayon supply had melted from the fire at the trailer. Reality sucks, but in my case “everything you can imagine is real�?.

Actually, I was at the time writing an informational and educational book entitled “The Care and Feeding of Blondes�? subtitled: “and why you should have one as a pet�? I was sure it would be a best seller, but you all know how I think! Here’s are some excerpts from the original transcript:

Blondes as a breed, have historically been overlooked as house pets due to age old misconceptions regarding their raucous behavior, incurable jealousy, and an unexplainable tendency to attack their owners. They have also been fabled to be excessive spenders and in some cases been known to mate with other breeds….. - But with proper training, nurturing and care, a Blonde can be a dedicated, loyal loving pet that will provide years of satisfaction to it’s owner…… - As a Blonde’s master, you must take into consideration the breed’s genetic defects associated with their learning and reasoning capabilities, and make generous compensations when exerting discipline, especially when practicing reward vs. punishment style training…… - Don’t just casually throw a treat to your Blonde, or you will end up with an uncontrollable, wild or “Feral Blonde�? such as Paris Hilton……

I suppose I should stop now, before I give away all the secrets contained in this volume. Look for the release of this book soon at Amazon .com or at your favorite local book store. But as usual, I digress…..

When I arrived home, I was met with yet another problem. It seems that while I was gone, my favorite pet Blonde (the ol lady) had accidentally set fire to the kitchen. At first, it appeared that at least one third of the house had been destroyed, but after a careful inspection the damage appeared to be more cosmetic than structural. That was a good thing, because I didn’t want to do any repair work at that moment. I wanted to drink beer!

Drinking is how I get all my inspiration, strength and ingenious ideas. Most people just do it to get drunk. To me, it’s more like a religious experience, and at the peak of the event, I get to see visions or get signs of things that the great Lord of Lager wants me to do. It’s kinda like hearing voices, only with pictures, and other sounds, all melded together with a real sense of tranquility and peace. Yeah, it’s like a dream-state filled with all the peaceful visions that anyone could…… “Gawdammit Craven! Ya passed out on the friggin milk crate again!!�? I heard, as I hit the floor. Hmmmm, this ain’t supposed to be part of the dream. “When are ya gonna get off yer ass and get a job or something!�? Through my blurry eyes, I look up and find the ol’ lady standin over me with her hands on her hips and a nasty scowl on her face. Hell, I’ve only been home for a few hours. This however is a scenario I have survived before, and as I rolled over on my elbow to get up, I spilled the rest of my (warm) beer on the shag carpet. As she continued to holler, I glanced at the clock and noticed it was 8:15. Was it AM or PM? I wasn’t really sure. As I came to, the light shining through the clear plastic bags we use for window replacement led me to believe that it was AM. Apparently, I was right.

I walked outside to take a leak, and the cool breeze and bright sunshine assured me that I was being greeted by a beautiful southern morning. It seemed quiet around the trailer for some reason. I remembered that uncle Bob had in my absence removed his girls and the famous SUV from the park, and for some reason the dog seemed to be calmer than usual. These feelings were not normal, but they were nice for a change. And being outside hearing the wind blow gently through the pines sorta gave me a feeling of well being. One I hadn’t felt in years. Wow! I wondered for a moment if I had died and went to trailer park heaven.

That notion immediately left my mind as I saw the electric company guys coming down the road to remove the meter from our pole, and simultaneously, the ol’ lady smacked me in the shoulder with a stack of bills that she had wrapped up with a large rubber band. I read the several dozen pages of crap as she began to ramble on about what an asshole I was and how I neglected to take care business around the house. As I watched the power guys cautiously get out of their truck with small caliber handguns, I thought about the last few times when the same dudes showed up to do their deed, and were met with a less than cordial greeting. This time, I just let them take the meter, and watched as they drove away at a high rate of speed. One of them already had the cast off his arm, and the other’s bruises had apparently healed. No need to have another standoff with the local authorities, who try to do their best to support the corporate bloodsuckers without statutory support. What a bunch of losers, I thought as I wandered toward the shed to retrieve the shunts I had fashioned to replace the meter’s connection to the power main. I reconnected the juice, and wandered back inside to get my jacket.

Still feeling great, I fired up the bagger, and headed out to the hard road towards town. Not much happens around here, and the area seems to get smaller and smaller in population as the months and years drag on. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for us to move to the big city, and forget about all the freedom that the country life provides. Hell, the “big�? city ain’t but 12 or 15 miles away, and it’s sometimes risky heading back home from a good night of hell raising and such, especially with a good drunk on. But life here drags on.

I stopped at Mom’s Diner for my morning cup of coffee. Again, something was pleasantly different. “Hey Craven, you want your usual?�? As I looked around to see where the syrupy, sing-song voice came from, I was surprised to see Christi standing there with a steaming cup of coffee and a huge bowl of grits with scrambled eggs and cheese. As she slid them on the table, I thought to myself out loud “sheeit, what happened here?�? I never remembered her being so nice, or looking so good for that matter…. Hell, I’ve been coming here for years, and uh….. “I need to talk to you about something Craven�? she cooed. “Yeah, so what’s up?�? I replied. “Well, I’m gonna lose my property to the County if I don’t get a few things fixed up around my place pretty quick, and ol’ Grady said you was pretty handy with a hammer and stuff, and umm�?…. I interrupted her in mid sentence with “ Whaddya got, a code violation or something?�? “Well yeah, and they wanna, ummm, well they already gave me a ticket and stuff like that, so I gotta do something real quick, or else they are gonna try to put a lien on my trailer or somethin!�? So I said, “Yeah, those Fu(#in bastards never quit! I’ve had my share of run-ins with em�?. It was then that I got one of those religious experiences that I referred to earlier, when she said, “You know, I got a bunch of money, and my sorry ass ol man is still out of town, and I would be willing to pay you well to get all the stuff straightened out, I mean, if ya wanna!�? “Hell yeah�? I shouted, “Lets just go see what’s gotta get done, and all that, and while yer at it wouldya mind getting me another cup of mud?“. “No problem�? she replied, “and I can get the rest of the day off, cause this place is dead anyhow�?…. As I watched her strut back to the kitchen, I again thought about how pleasing this portion of my day was going. After I finished my third cup, I noticed that there was no “guest check�? left at my table, and I was summoned to the door by a freshly painted fingernail. Evidently, my tab had been paid, and I was supposed to follow her somewhere. Something’s gotta be wrong I thought, but hey, I got nothing to lose!

I fired up the bagger, and followed her just a few miles down the road to her trailer. When I arrived, I saw the usual conditions that are visible around these parts. This and that part of the trailer out of joint, yard grown up with winter weeds, shit laying here and there, nothing unusual. “Them County code guys said I have to get all this stuff cleaned up and mow the yard, and fix the skirt, and�?…. I interrupted her again, and said, “ So, you got some money, huh?�? She replied, “Well, yeah! Sure I do!�? “Look honey, I’m gonna need about $500.00 or so to start, and when I get done I will need some more, I’m sure.�? I had to control my jaw from dropping to my chest as she opened her purse, and fanned out six crisp one hundred dollar bills. “Look. Here’s some cash to get you started, and if you get it done quick enough, there will be a lot more.�? I just can’t see givin these County bastards any money, or seein them take away my place, just cause I can’t do all this stuff myself!�? “ Not a problem�? I replied, “And I will see you in a little while!�?

I waved goodbye as I jumped on the bike and hauled ass down the driveway, leaving a rooster tail of dirt and dust. On the ride back to the trailer, I again got a vision of my unusual good fortune, what tools I would need to complete this task, and imagined what fringe benefits may be available to me, working for such a curvaceous contractor.

I skidded to a stop near the front steps, where the ol lady was sitting, sharpening a very large kitchen knife. Her friend Paula from lot 104 was sitting there with her, looking as mean and slutty as ever. I approached the pair with my new found fortune in my hand, and said “look, I got some dough, so why don’t y’all run down and pay all them bills you got, and I’ll give Paula $5.00 for gas money�?. The ol’ lady seemed surprised as I handed her four of those crisp hundreds, and all of a sudden, she appeared to be in a good mood. Things looked to be getting even better! They were giggling and whispering something as they ran off to Paula’s car. “Don’t forget to pick me up a 12 pack!“ I hollered. I immediately began gathering tools, and supplies needed to do the job over at Christi’s, and started loading them into my old pickup. I knew there was more money to come soon, but I had diligently stashed two hundred away, so I could go enjoy myself at the bars later on in the evening.

Then, as usual in my life, reality again reared it‘s ugly head. I had forgotten that I had traded away my tractor in the “Christmas Junk Yard Fiasco“. Christi’s joint was probably close to two acres in size, and I didn’t have a working mower since the tractor was gone. I sure as hell couldn’t go down to Grady’s and rent something, cause I wasn’t really on his “good list�? at this particular moment. I had to think of something fast, so I could get the job done, and collect the profits.

I wasn’t about to try to borrow or steal a push mower. The yard was just too big over there for my lazy ass to spend all day shoving a 40 pound mower through 3 foot tall weeds. Then as happened earlier in the day, I had one of those revelations of the spiritual kind. Another fantastic invention came to mind. I quickly grabbed the old rusty reel mower from the scrap pile, and grabbed an old bicycle with a broken front fork. I threw the two items into the pole barn, and raced over to Jeb’s shed to temporarily borrow his buzz-box welder. 45 minutes and 2 beers later I had fashioned the perfect “Redneck Riding Lawnmower�? by affixing the remainder of the reel mower to the front end of the bicycle. Although at first, this combination was ungainly, after a few quick laps around the yard I was certain that much profit could be made, and heck, it was easier than pushing! I loaded the device in the pickup, and headed down the road.

Later that evening, as I sat on Christie’s front porch drinking a cold beer, I again reveled at my good fortune. Beer, money, and the satisfaction of a good day’s work are all things that assuredly all men can enjoy. Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, I hear the trailer door open, and turn to see her standing in the threshold with the world’s shortest mini-skirt, a cold 6 pack in a bucket with ice, and a fresh pack of left-handed Marlboros. Y’all have a month to figure out what happens next…….