Status: In Progress.
There Goes The Sun
1. You Are Here.
June 17, I think.
It’s official, now. There’s nothing left to show in the Show-Me State. The Heart of Dixie went into cardiac arrest. The Golden State’s gone gray. You’re lucky to see any stars at all in the Lone Star State. And the sun’s gone out on the Sunshine State. I would know, because that’s where I am right now.
The radio died this morning, the TV about ten days ago, not that the thing was much good to begin with. So now, all I have in this godforsaken world are:
A dead radio,
the clothes on my back,
a bag full of junk food I salvaged,
a few dollars in my pockets,
and Ed.
I’m pretty sure Ed’s made up his mind that he’s not going anywhere without me, and that’s fine by me. It’s not like I’ve got anyone else since Aunt DiCamillo split on us.
Oh, well. Her loss, I guess.
I left Pensacola a week ago, once I realized she wasn’t coming back from wherever she went. I was pretty lost, too - not a clue where I was headed until I hit one of those tourist stops on the Dixie Highway, with one of those little “You Are Here” centers. Apparently, I am in Boulogne, The Gateway To Sunshine, and I’ve got a whole lot of state to go through if I mean to get out of here.
And I will get out of here, if it’s the last thing I do. I lived my whole life in this place and I’ll be damned if I’m going to die here too.
I’m going down to Key West. There are boats going out of there, going to Mexico and Puerto Rico and even Brazil, I think. They were talking about it just yesterday - it was the last news report I heard - and - damn. Ed’s discovered the corn chips and is barking like a maniac. The only dog I know who eats corn chips and he’s stuck with me. He’s eating my snacks.
Such is the price of safety in numbers.
It’s official, now. There’s nothing left to show in the Show-Me State. The Heart of Dixie went into cardiac arrest. The Golden State’s gone gray. You’re lucky to see any stars at all in the Lone Star State. And the sun’s gone out on the Sunshine State. I would know, because that’s where I am right now.
The radio died this morning, the TV about ten days ago, not that the thing was much good to begin with. So now, all I have in this godforsaken world are:
A dead radio,
the clothes on my back,
a bag full of junk food I salvaged,
a few dollars in my pockets,
and Ed.
I’m pretty sure Ed’s made up his mind that he’s not going anywhere without me, and that’s fine by me. It’s not like I’ve got anyone else since Aunt DiCamillo split on us.
Oh, well. Her loss, I guess.
I left Pensacola a week ago, once I realized she wasn’t coming back from wherever she went. I was pretty lost, too - not a clue where I was headed until I hit one of those tourist stops on the Dixie Highway, with one of those little “You Are Here” centers. Apparently, I am in Boulogne, The Gateway To Sunshine, and I’ve got a whole lot of state to go through if I mean to get out of here.
And I will get out of here, if it’s the last thing I do. I lived my whole life in this place and I’ll be damned if I’m going to die here too.
I’m going down to Key West. There are boats going out of there, going to Mexico and Puerto Rico and even Brazil, I think. They were talking about it just yesterday - it was the last news report I heard - and - damn. Ed’s discovered the corn chips and is barking like a maniac. The only dog I know who eats corn chips and he’s stuck with me. He’s eating my snacks.
Such is the price of safety in numbers.