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It's time to do the whiskey-tango, folks, the hot new chick in space #50 looked at me. She's even hotter than Maudine! I can hardly contain myself. You know how when you scratch a dog behind its ear and its back leg goes thump-thump-thump on the floor? Well, looking at that chick does the same thing to me. Fuck Maudine. Marshal can have her. No more standing on the roof of my trailer in a firesuit and firehat, steaming up my my goggles crying. Not another night of mine will be spent in the jail trailer for peeping into Maudine's bedroom window. Nope, I'm only gonna be peeping into Belinda's bedroom window from now on. You all don't think Dot suspects anything, do you? I doubt it. You all laughed at me for hooking up with a simpleton, but you know what? It's paying off now. So what if the number of cats she owns exceeds her IQ? I'd rather have a crazy cat lady who ain't got enough upstairs to figure out I'm a hopeless pervert than be with a scientist who knows the only thing that ever comes out of my mouth is bullshit. So there. The way I see it, Belinda's front porch is the entrance to Heaven, and her sliding-glass door is the Pearly Gates. It drives me nuts to stand there on her porch, making small talk with her, all the while seeing her couch right there over her left shoulder, behind her in the living room. Oooooooooooooh, the things I could do to her on that couch. Damn. I wish she'd let me into her trailer. One way to impress a woman of Belinda's caliber is through physical and mental prowess. I may have impressed the pants off her during the Trailerpark Olympics. I sure do hope so, anyways. I got a gold medal in the creep-and-peep event, which took a lot of mental and physical prowess, especially the way I was dressed. I had to slither all the way up the driveway unseen, peeping into as many trailers as I could on the way, and I did it all in a firesuit. I also won the gold medal for busting out of the jail trailer, but that was easy. I did it enough times before. Come to think of it, that event took a lot of mental and physical prowess, too, even with all the training I done for it over the past couple years. Anybody who's lucky enough to talk to Belinda, be sure to put in a good word for me. It don't hurt to have the neighbors talking me up when I go to ask the fair lady out on a real actual date. In the meantime, I'll just have to humor Dot. Not that she's done anything wrong or got uglier, she just got to be old hat. Shit happens. I'm staying in Dot's trailer in space #8 because she gots a actual mobilehome, and all I got is a little old travel trailer. The guy who drives the trailer-moving rig for Trailertopia said he'd give me a mobilehome off the lot when his boss ain't looking. I won it in the creep-and-peep event. Soon as my new mobilehome arrives, I'm out of Dot's trailer and away from all them cats. I'd just go back to my old place, but that ain't acceptable accommodations for a lady like Belinda. She don't even need to know I used to live in that old travel trailer. In preparation for my lady fair, I've traded in that dusty old truck Dot gave me for a convertible sportscar at the used-car lot up the highway. That old truck ain't suitable to be squiring Belinda around in. A lady like that deserves something sleek--like a convertible. Of course, there was a difference between what I got for the truck and what the convertible sportscar cost. It was no problem, though. I just put the balance on Dot's credit card. Now that I don't have a truck no more, I'm borrowing Eddie's monster truck to haul my old travel trailer away. If I'm out hauling the trailer away and y'all see the trailer-moving rig headed down the driveway with a brand-new singlewide on the back, steer it toward space #38.
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