I saw seven different James McMurtrys this evening, the first one at Shady’s when I stopped to get gas. Some chump was in front of me behind a work truck in one of them new fangled Corvettes, easily the stupidest fucking fake muscle car out of that whole genre of stupid cars. But James McMurtry had him hemmed in with the work truck while he paid for his gas and got a ice cold Mountain Dew. James came out smiling, even chatted up some dude next row over before finally driving off. Got my gas and went to the Food Lion and saw four more James McMurtrys there, one of them mad dogging me, maybe because of the mask I still wear (fuck y’all, gonna wear this shit til I die at this point, fuck your feelings about masks), then another was hilariously looking for marked down chicken, just like me, and we cursed the price of existence. I knew one of the James McMurtrys, saw him while I was checking out and he came, guess ol’ boy lives in that town now, like 15 minutes from my place. Told me his girlfriend lives up near me though. Then riding home, saw two more James McMurtrys, the next to last one sitting on his porch as I drove the back roads back home to my simple assed house in this little ass town famous for the Waltons. That last James McMurtry was sitting there the other day too, vibing on the porch, and we waved the knowing wave that James McMurtrys gives each other. And then I saw the last James McMurtry, as I was backing around the dead tree with the hubcaps nailed to it in my front yard, looking back from the rear view mirror, with his ridiculous beard and amethyst crystal necklace and worn out embroidered Celtics jersey from seven lifetimes ago. I smiled at him, took the groceries inside, changed into the tiniest Nike shorts I got, and started making dinner. Spaghetti tonight.
1 comment:
That was a lovely story kid.
Post a Comment