13 January 2014

Felony Rad

A country girl's heart is filled with apple pie.
Made with sugar and spice and everything nice.

A hillbilly girl's heart holds a lot of booze.

With the practice that I've had, one would think I'd be more apt at completing the stages of grieving. Unfortunately, I've never been sober enough to remember how the process ends (uhhh... usually with me face-down in the back of a pickup truck sob-singing random verses of Red Sovine's Teddy Bear while lobbing empties at birds). 
I can do this.
I know I can.
I just need to get over myself before I fall out the bottom.
Jump on the wagon, and then push everyone else off so I have more room to haul my booze. 

Let me kick my feet up and tell ya'll a story.

       The left leg was lime green. The other was stark white. The tread of a bike tire brought them together as it ran down one side of the pants and crossed the ass to the other. The tiny bicycles spattered throughout just made the spandex all the more rad.
I was the most rad youth the Appalachian early 80's had ever seen. The town could hardly handle all the rad that my pants David Lee Roth-kicked into the surroundings. I still remember the stir I caused at the Five-and-Dime when I stole a pack of gum wearing lime green spandex. 
I was so rad they called the cops.
The pants alone were enough reason for Mayberry P.D. to throw me right into the back of that police cruiser and haul me down Main Street.
Felony Rad; 1st Degree.
Maybe not so.
More like Second Degree Stupidity; Sibling Class.
(You were right, James. They did want to hear about you.)

They delivered us to Elwood (Husband III).
  Mom was around later, after "The Man" left. Woody dumbed down the charges. Practically made it seem like the gum stole me. Jimmy though? Well, his was a cry for help; call his dad. "Dispatch to Coyote. The boy's a crook." The brother outlived his charges, but I caved. I caved like a dirty stool pigeon. (I know this because the brother made me watch the godamn Disney Zoo VHS that features the "stool pigeon" for weeks afterward. Bread and Butter.) 
I falsely confessed to the theft of that gum.
 I was ready for my yipes-stripes-fruit-striped-prison-issue-duds.
Elwood wouldn't let me be sentenced.
"Rolo!" he hollered, certain he could distract with the facts.

They never knew who to believe, the authorities, him or me. A gum or a candy, the evidentiary chain seemed so insubstantial. But when it came to calorie-count, apparently it mattered. And as Mayberry P.D. rounded the alley away from the grape vines it made me wonder; if I had copped to the crime of the multi-pack, would they had overlooked the stolen chocolates? Disregarded the covered-caramel like the stolen confectionary was merely a by-product of a hapless youth and it's wayward direction?
Would the gooey truth ever be exposed?
Well, here it is.
i never stole the gum, i confess. 
it was a chocolate-covered caramel.

"ROLO!" I holler, knowing this is the time for my crime.

Elwood was a good man.