It was a beautiful spring day in the middle of South Dakota. Momma Edna (Eddie Mae), Jennie, and I were toolin’ along, singing along with Johnny and June.
“You never found your June Carter, did you, Daddy?”
“Your dad wouldn’t know a good woman if she hit him over the head, little lady. The best thing that ever happened to you was when your momma run off with that piece of shit trucker.”
A scruffy hitchhiker with a full hiker’s backpack, complete with sleeping bag and frying pan, had his thumb out up ahead. Eddie and I exchanged glances; she shrugged, I pulled over.
Jennie hopped into the back seat with him and put her feet up on the seat; my buddy Jim once told me she was a beautiful 18-year-old, right before I popped him in the nose.
Momma Edna never did have much patience; after about ten miles of puppy-dog eyes and talk about how great life on the road must be, Edna whipped out her pistol and told “Scruffy” to shuck his stinky blue jeans.
“Jesus, leave them ‘undies-of-many-colors’ on, boy. Who do you think we are? Jennie, check them pockets.”
“Well, there’s, let’s see, 578 bucks, a cell phone, a credit card, six condoms that he ain’t gonna use today (smirk), and a picture of a bucktoothed whore. Sister, girlfriend, or both?”
I’d heard enough. “Okay, honey, give him back his pants and a hundred bucks to live on. He can have the cards and phone too, nothin’ to trace back to us, right? You can call Mom and Pop back on Long Island for some more cash, right, sonny?”
Dumbass nodded and got out; Jennie blew him a kiss and flipped him the bird.
“Well, looks like it’s the Golden Corral and the Ramada Inn tonight”, said Eddie Mae. “Wake me up when we hit Wall Drug. I promised Mabel I’d bring back a Jackalope. She’s an idiot, but she’s blood.”
(Reads as 325 or 326 words to me. My God, I’d be horrified if my sweet daughter or my late, sweet mom ever talked like these 2. 😉 )