Saturday, May 31, 2008
I was really wanting to work on flash, but a news story threw me into short story mode. I'd had this story brewing about a hidden clan of blue people in Appalachia, and then Brazil(stupidly in my opinion) released those pictures of the previously uncontacted tribes in the Amazon Basin. So, my Hidden Holler blue people story started coming out and I had to grab ahold of the laptop and hold on. I'm not sure it's literary, but it's really fun.
Anyway, I'm concerned about the release of those photos. They showed the tribesmen shooting arrows at the airplane taking the pictures. What must they think? At any rate, I'm sure somewhere there are spiritually greedy missionaries drooling to go "help" the poor souls. Brazil says it wants to protect these four tribes that are threatened by bringing the attention of the world to their plight.
Is the Brazilian government on crack?
If they honestly wanted to help these people they would have set up preserves and kept them secret. Because now some determined idiot is going to want to go there, give them smallpox and religion.
Wild humans should be kept wild, I say.
Sorry. Would you care for some Porn and Donuts? You've come here and I haven't offered you a thing. What must you think.
Kellie was officially unemployed, as was Lucius. She quit her job at a whitewater rafting company after a guide was arrested for selling hydros to an undercover TBI agent. Kellie saw it as a business decision, but she gave up her free housing when she quit. Her real talents lay elsewhere.
Kellie found Tenncare patients with pain medication scripts, and then she connected them with dealers. She took a cut from the top of the sale, sometimes in drugs and sometimes in cash. She thought of herself as a sort of social service worker, since these people needed the money to get by. She certainly needed the money, and she wanted the drugs.
They fired Lucius a few months ago from Miss Lucy’s Wild West Rodeo Show and Dinner Theater. It was a sweet gig while it lasted. The show featured a chicken dinner served without cutlery. For twenty-five bucks a head, you ate your broasted chicken with your bare hands while costumed rodeo riders galloped around the arena chasing cattle, pigs and goats in front of you. It was an elegant evening filled with food and livestock.
Lucius had a bottle of oxycontins in his western shirt pocket that night. His job included hitching the horses to the wagon that carried students from Pee Wee’s Modeling and Beauty School. He checked the traces and handed the reins to the driver each night before the wagon entered the arena.
His bottle of oxycontins fell out and rolled under the little girls’ seats before he could leap clear of the wagon. Lucius dived to retrieve them. That was how he ended up in a fast moving horse-drawn wagon with a chubby twelve-year old beauty queen perched, crotch first, on his face.
Seven hundred fifty guests witnessed the incident that earned Lucius his pink slip. There was a scandal.
Labels: Saturday Serial Story