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Off, Picker! before/after In other news, get me out of this godforsaken podunk town. It was warm the other day, and I walked out to the road to get a newspaper. I was sans shirt. ( I don't know if this is relevant or not. Maybe this concerns a raging closet case.) And a big, shiny black pickup truck drove by. One of those obnoxious hick-mobiles, with red racing decals, tinted windows and flare sides over the rear tires. And the driver, a man with faux oakley sunglasses was leaning far over in the driver seat, staring at me with an inensity of purpose that made me pause. "What the fuck is wrong with you, red-neck?" I mumbled getting the mail. Nice big black shiny pick-up truck, asshole. Go watch some NASCAR. Get me the fuck out of here with a quickness. Or kill me. And, in an unrelated tangent, I have deduced that my 'rents use coffee as a mild form of speed.
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