Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Hey Hey Freedom: Flooded Indiana

Dwayne is a dick, anyways. I’m glad his house is gone and his life is over. I know how lucky I am to be alive. That’s why I know its ok to call Dwayne a fucking dick. Cause he is and was one.
I make little boats out of the trash from his house. I don’t know if it’s the trash from his house but I like to think so. My backyard is so much more action packed than it used to be. We had to build the wall right away to keep the water back, but it made for a deep swimming hole and beautiful dock for all my “Dwayne-is-a-dick” trash boats.
I slept through the entire thing. I was told it happened so fast. No screams or fires or blood or guts. More like a submerged hose slowly filling a kiddie pool or the way a sunburn sneaks up. Quiet.
People are worried that there might be another. What is the use in worrying about that? The tippy top of the Ozarks might be the only place left after the “next one”, but I aint gonna move there. All my stuff is here.
Today I’m gonna get drunk with Uncle Minnie and lance the skin off my arm that holds the botched tattoo that Dwayne gave me. He told me it was gonna be a devil face but it looks to me like a dick with three balls. Fuck Dwayne. Fuck that dead dick.

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