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My boy Timmy went and wrecked not one, but two of my pickup trucks this month. I blame Ramone, the new guy in space #90. Ever since Ramone moved into the trailer park, Timmy's been star-struck. Ramone drives in the demolition derby event during halftime at the racetrack down the highway, and apparently he's some kind of champion at it. Now Timmy wants to drive like that. Ramone told Timmy the secret to winning a demolition derby is to go backwards a whole lot. You can't get killed going backwards, and neither can your engine. So Timmy pilfered my truck keys to practice driving real fast in reverse. Unfortunately, Timmy backed my pickup truck into the duckpond, where it sucked algae and duckshit and mud and guppies and giardia lamblia into the motor. That truck is still in the duckpond right now, because I got no reason to pay to have it towed out. It ain't never running again anyways, not with the engine all gummed up like that. My other pickup truck suffered a similar fate with Timmy at the wheel, but it crashed into the dumpster first and pushed the crumpled dumpster into the duckpond. Both pickup trucks are still in the water right now. I did make Timmy get out there and drag the dumpster out of the duckpond, though. I mean, shit, we need someplace to dump our trash, right? Besides, Timmy got Ronnie and Lonnie Dorque in space #24 to help him. I suppose things could be worse. At least Ramone ain't getting Timmy into pills and meth and tarball heroin and shit like that. Timmy's only 14 years old. The only thing he's allowed to do is drink beer, and it has to be in my presence. And Timmy was stone-cold sober when he sank both my pickup trucks. When Timmy does drive with a few beers in him, he holds his liquor well. He don't go attracting the attention of law enforcement by weaving all over the road or nothing like that. He pretty much sticks to driving inside the trailer park and don't go out on the highway hardly at all. The only DUI Timmy ever got was on his bike a couple years ago. Oh, shit, I just realized something. Both my trucks are in the duckpond and out of commission. This means I can't go to the store for beer. Timmy's too young to buy beer, even with a note from his mama or me. Even if he could buy beer with a note, he'd have to put a little pink fag-basket on his bike to haul the beer home in, and I just can't allow that. Beulah will just have to stuff her 400-pound self into that ittybitty Honda and make beer runs for the family. Maybe I ought to pay to have one of my trucks towed out of the pond, after all. That Honda's a sore issue for me. I ain't never told anybody about this, but back when Beulah was with that fucking pervert Willy, she put the Honda in her and Willy's name. So technically, that creepy fucking pervert owns half my wife's Honda. We can't sell it without Willy's signature, and I know he'll demand half what we get for the car to sign the title transfer. Maybe I ought to let Timmy use the Honda for his demolition derby shit.
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