Trout Fisting in America Runs On Dunkin

As cusping-pubescent girls braid each other’s hair and the spartans all self-immolate in their nissan sentras, the difference between swagger & stagger is but a single letter. Same w/polar & solar. Or coffee & toffee.

It seems like the public-place chair cushions get less & less inflated year after year, or whatever fluffy filling it is that they shoot between the seams. More & more often I’m left w/assbone against wood, shifting sideways back & forth like a spatula on a frozen pea. So yeah the Saturday afternoon Dunkin Donuts is mess. I mean, what degree of cross-species inbreeding did it take to get this 10-year-old girl to eat her ice cream cone from the bottom up. And the way her dad calmly hands her the empty cardboard tray his BigMac came in to help catch the drippings, it’s almost like this isn’t an experiment she’s conducting, or an impulsive rebellion against culinary norms. I think this is just how this girl eats ice cream. And maybe someone should say something. Set her straight. At least get her some more napkins. But the girl’s a goddamn mess, a cold 10-year-old mess, and her dad I can see now has a visible gun tucked into the waistband of his pants and clipped to his belt and I know that I for damn sure don’t feel safer. If anything were to ‘go down’ or ‘flare up’ or ‘fart sideways’ it looks like I’d be in the middle of a goddamn firefight—which isn’t safe at all. And yeah, the chairs are made of what feels like titanium-wood, but I don’t think they’re thick enough to stop bullets when I’m hiding under one of them. He’s wearing a camouflaged hat featuring the University of Georgia G. It’s possible he’s an alumnus, but more likely just a fan of the football team.

Georgia’s an open-carry state if you have a permit, but asking a gun owner if they have a permit is kind of a lose-lose proposition, if you get my drift. There’s zero upside, and infinite amounts of downside.

The ice cream girl goes to the bathroom to clean up and now she’s come back and is flicking water into her dad’s face and god part of me kind of hopes he shoots her.

That’s not actually true. The shooting wish. Not on purpose anyway.

But this is America and accidents happen. Some days it seems like they’re the only things that happen.

About ScottCreney

Scott Creney lives in Athens, Georgia. He is the author of "Dear Al-Qaeda: Letters to the World’s Most Notorious Terror Organiztion".
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