Saturday, December 29, 2012

West Memphis Saturday Night

My liver was soaked on top of a nose full of cat’s croak when the truck driver with a neck tattoo that may or may not have been of Merle Haggard first spit and then staggered.

There is nothing in life as dangerous as a loose woman, a distant second and third being dog-legged next of kin and jealous husbands and boyfriends.

I was the king of sin and sleaze from the seven seas to Tastee-Freez when I met that thick gal with ham hocks in knee socks, and I’ll never forget the way her bingo wings jiggled with the creak of the box springs.

There are those who choose to live the life of a true romantic, those I-40 lotharios who dare to dream, and yet those dreams do regularly involve staring down a hog’s leg amongst lot lizards, buzzards and the over-fed.

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