Darryl opened the door of the tar paper shack that was precariously standing in the solitude of a country lane which his stepfather's kin had long ago forgotten belonged to the family and so was available to his stepfather when no other place would have his redneck hide. The shack was his home now along with his stepbrother Jimmy Lee and stepsister Wanda Sue ever since his mother had divorced his father after the ruination of their family trip to Dollywood which had taken every last nickel of the family's savings and plunged them into irretrievable debt.
Sleeping with the divorce lawyer had been the only way his mother had been able to save enough from the process to finance the removal of one deadbeat's tattooed name to make way for its replacement by her current deadbeat spouse. Not that he was supposed to know about that.
"Don't you go messing around with them Faye girls, Darryl!" his mother shouted after him as the screen door attempted to slam behind him. "They's trash jus like they ma and no fit company for my boy."
Darryl knew they were trash, of course. But they had a stash of their pa's corn liquor stolen off him when he got so drunk on Saturday night that he couldn't feel them slipping the key to his shed out of his pocket. That after he'd beat them for prying two boards off the back and making off with the jug which they had all enjoyed back in January when they had first invited him out to the woods. Bertha Faye had showed him her titties just before she got sick on her sister's bare feet. A boy would have to be crazy to pay attention to his ma with such enticements. Besides, he was pretty sure he was trash too, so what was the harm?
Darryl knew they were trash, of course. But they had a stash of their pa's corn liquor stolen off him when he got so drunk on Saturday night that he couldn't feel them slipping the key to his shed out of his pocket. That after he'd beat them for prying two boards off the back and making off with the jug which they had all enjoyed back in January when they had first invited him out to the woods. Bertha Faye had showed him her titties just before she got sick on her sister's bare feet. A boy would have to be crazy to pay attention to his ma with such enticements. Besides, he was pretty sure he was trash too, so what was the harm?
Ma had turned into such a pain lately. Apron strings just wasn't the word for it. Maybe she felt guilty seeing how he had become a redheaded stepchild way more than in literal fact. His stepfather was a jerk who had blown up his old house and marriage real good. The house was a hole on its old lot and his ex couldn't make up her mind whether to disappear entirely or hang around and make herself as unpleasant as possible. And Jimmy and Wanda missed no opportunity to add to the misery of his existence. He felt bad leaving Ma alone in such a pile of hillbilly purgatory but there was no way he was sticking around any more than the necessities of life absolutely required. Not when there was female breasts and godawful moonshine to be had.
Darryl grabbed the biggest piece of wood he could find before he reached the road and, using it sometimes as a walking stick and sometimes as a cudgel to knock off rotted limbs from any tree within reach, he headed off, more westerly than not. He could hardly see for squinting into the late day sun but, luckily, the familiar backfire of his stepdad's jalopy alerted him in time to duck for cover that the old man was on his way home from his day job of stuffing animal hides. On weekends he announced monster truck rallies. Either way, Darryl was more than relieved to have escaped detection and be able to continue his excursion. That weasel Bubba Bob something or other had taken Ma bad sometime around her divorce and made off with her sweet Chevy Impala with the bucket seats through some shenanigans of fate that Darryl didn't get at all and now they had nothing to get around in but some cobbed together crate that stank of taxidermist potions.
"Darryl", Ma had told him, "don't you judge me! Ain't no way that rednecks like us can hang onto anything but debt. Best you learn that young, boy."
Didn't matter. He could hear the voices of Bertha and her sister, Wanda, from down in the hollow now. He picked his way carefully down the slope where the shadow of sunset had already taken hold. The girls must have already been taking their turns at the jug because all he could hear was loud giggling and snorts without anything being said that could be seen as causing that much laughter. "What's so damn funny?" he barked, taking both by surprise. They covered their mouths but could in no way control their amusement. "Never you mind, Darryl Carrottop", sputtered Wanda after a long struggle which led to her sister doubling over and the both of them, finally, tipping over in paroxysms which were out of their control and play acting at the same time.
He was offended at the name but was old enough now for something within him to see that the situation had, nevertheless, a promising smell and to let it pass. He squatted next to the still convulsive Bertha and waited out the fit. "You girls are already skunk faced" he offered when the giggling subsided at last. "Not!" they both said together, which set off another round of uncontrollable laughter. "Are so!" Even in the lantern light he could see they were flush and the play of the shadows across their blouses was starting something in his groin. "Gonna give me a swig or not?" His voice cracked. Wanda, who had still not regained her composure or her balance, waved the jug out towards him and caught him on the mouth with the edge of the heavy piece of crockery. "Oops", she squealed. He reached into his mouth. "Shit", he thought, "lost another damn tooth".
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Much later, the jug emptied and the moon well up, Bertha Faye demanded, "where's them pictures anyway?" Darryl, his mouth still aching but unable to suppress a broad grin, looked at her and said softly, "same place as always". http://www.flickr.com/photos/23129636@N02/sets/72157603820898882/
