Gert Grundy had about all she could take of her niece Cassidy Cheyenne and her god damn holier than thou attitude, tossing down a “Two much information” penalty flag with an extra huge box-car load of heavy mascara eye rolling.
Who the heck was she, with her chopped and cropped Motley Crue top and her low gunslinger grimy bottoms, her tramp-stamp tattoos of skeletal hands and Hells own flames climbing climbing up out of her unwashed personal situation.
Just one mention of the old days when Gert played the roadhouse circuit with her exotic dance routine “Ginger And Her Snaps”, one little mention of a twist and a tumble in the double sleeper of a purple Peterbilt with Texas tags and now Cassidy was all crapily disposed and huffy.
I like that, thought Gert, Jesus himself knows I love her, but that girl with her no-account trailer trash unemployed friends, drinking beer and being snippy and rude after what all I done for her, alright,…. for her momma to be truthful (won’t never forget that drunk “Thelma and Louise” summer of ours), and I made her momma a promise before she got sent away to do right by her child, and one way or t’other I will.
From the bottom of the “Farm n’ Family” sized Quaker Oaks container Gert fished out her solution and unwrapping it from the Hoppin’ Rabbit plastic bag while she sorted out the mail, opening one letter of especial particular interest and saw there was a might choice to make, which she pondered as she absentmindedly slipped bullets into her big old Smith & Wesson revolver now free of the bag.
Gert’s mind shifting back and forth between loading the gun and reading that letter, choices, choices what to do? should she just plain shoot Cassidy Cheyenne dead right where slumped on the porch next to the spare washing machine, passed out from smoking cheap weed, or rob another highway package store and get a little money towards an expensive future, a hard hard nut to crack indeed.
Oh, the hell, do the right thing I suppose, wake the kid, tell her the news that she’s going to off to school in the fall, then later on go rob up some money towards tuition, Med School at Yale ain’t gonna come cheap!