It’s Cold, I’m Hungry!

Cross Country: On the Fly…

   I really dont want to make myself sound heroic…but then, again, I really do. I think I am, in the sense that I survived. The odds were definitely not on mine and Danny’s side, not even with his martial arts abilities and my athleticism and amazing wit. No, we were not favored to make it out of this situation. Our addiction was the biggest obstacle.

   If ever there were 2 humans inclined towards getting high, Danny and I were they. We lived just to escape the fact that we did. I knew that bucket of slop that lurked I my locked closet of memory, but I was not too certain what his closet contained. He spoke of childhood abuse in vague terms, a mean father who could break cinder blocks with his nether parts. A trick from the old Hungarian countryside, I presumed. I was really too stoned to see past my own misery, too selfish to feel pity for what he had been through. The world owed me, and I was going to steal what I could to get back at everyone.

   At the time of my leaving Palm City, I had been telling everyone that I was really Hank William’s daughter. By virtue of a blood transfusion when I was born, that by some magic, this had made me his offspring. I insisted to my Danny that we drive up to Alabama, to Hank’s hometown, where I would find my lost family. All we found was a bar where we spent our last few dollars.