Kicking up dust

Every bump makes me wince, but I have to keep reminding myself that things can always get worse.


I once saw the little guy with the long dirty blonde hair punch a man in the face for no real reason other than he was in a mood. The convienience store clerk stood behind the counter wide-eyed as he saw the other man came out of the restroom at the back of the store and ever so slightly bumped into the dirty little creep while his face was buried deep in the beer fridge.


“Excuse me” was all he managed to say before the feral little hillbilly said, “S’cuse this, acehole!” and then he punched the man square in the nose. The man’s face erupted like a small fountain as he dropped to his knees. He wasn’t looking for trouble and still he got sucker punched. He was about 45, polo shirt now being covered in blood and he just sat there in shock holding his nose. And then the little creep pushed him aside onto the white linoleum floor and swaggered to the register with a six pack in hand. I don’t know what kind of crap beer he had in hand, only that I pulled back behind the shelving with my chips trying hard not to crinkle the bag until they left.


If a grown man just passing through town with a car full of kids could piss him off, I can’t imagine what a young Arab boy might do to set him off. So I waited and hid till they were gone.


I don’t know his name, and I haven’t seen him in over a year, but I swear that he’s the same guy that just got out of that truck with the other two Rob Zombie looking mothers’ just down the street. They are not locals, well, in that they don’t live here in town. I’m guessing they’re the same hillbilly idiots that were running amuck in the streets out near the farm house yesterday. These guys are trouble for sure, and I had better not be caught out here alone. I mean, I came all the way out here to get these videos to learn how to defend myself from these same 3 guys.


Luckily, I had just about finished getting my dad ready for transport. There was an old painter’s tarp in the back room of the video store and some duct tape. I cut some wires from the surveillance system for tow cables for my bike, and then strapped dad on. He looked like a mummy.

Does that make him a mummy-daddy?

I found some other goodies while I was there too, but since I don’t have my backpack I had to package the videos in with dad. I’m not sure how proud he’ll be of all my video choices, but I’m guessing he was 16 once too.

Is there really a difference between mummies and zombies besides the bandages?



I’m taking the back dusty roads home to hopefully avoid being seen but I’m still making good time despite the dead weight. But every bump still makes me cringe as I think of my dad’s body dragging behind me and him bumping his head on all the rocks.


I guess nothing motivates you to move on and forget your loss like the fear for your life. Zombies don’t scare me half as much as those hillbillies do…


5 thoughts on “Kicking up dust

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  1. You’ve got duct tape. You’ll be just fine. If you ever leave this shit town, just make sure you pack some duct tape to take with you. It’s true that you’ll need your weapons, and by all means pack them. But don’t be a typical blonde babe and forget your duct tape. Combine that with a safety kit (yeah, don’t forget your safety kit) and you’re ready to be ALive. So, rather than thinking about food, think about 1) firearms 2) sharp machete (silent kill is best) 3) duct tape and 4) safety kit. It’s like shopping for a camping trip, but in reverse. Stay alive: weapons. Avoid dying: duct tape.

    Liked by 1 person

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