Today, among other random activities, I crept out of the basement, risking exposure to sunlight, in order to acquire flour tortillas and ant spray. Two great tastes that go great together. The closest location where one might procure these goods is the little strip-mall style shopping center about 5 miles away - the only bastion of consumer convenience for about 20 miles more. It's not hard to find, just drive AWAY from the banjos.

And that's good advice anyways.

In the 10 minutes I was in said shopping center, I encountered more redneck stereotypes in the flesh than I could count. There were little kids wearing nothing but fruit-of-the-looms walking around barefoot, reeking of urine, screaming for some-thing or other in an unintelligible dialect of what I assume was english. There were men wearing blue jeans and flannel shirts in 95 degree weather, but it was okay because none of them had sleeves. I heard racial epithets I can't even recognize. There were more ATVs in the parking lot than actual cars.

I felt out of place because I have so many teeth.

After escaping from the place-where-pork-products-go-to-retire, I sought the only common solace this place has to offer. The liquor store next door stocks a surprisingly diverse selection of alcohol, including bell jars full of moonshine. You only think I'm kidding. Since I didn't want to go blind anytime soon, I picked up some more mainstream spirits and sidestepped the rain of fire as I attempted to check out.

Most of you have probably played Gorillas, right? Gorillas.bas?
If that's too antiquated, how about Scorched Earth?
Gunbound?

Whatever you want to call it, the guys in the Ace Hardware next door were playing a variation on the theme using lit cigarettes. See, the Ace Hardware store and the liquor store share a single storefront, seperated only by a high glass wall - as if the presense of questionably legal booze right next to the chainsaws and nailguns wasn't telling enough. The hillbilly employees were knee-deep in some kind of primitive game that involved drinking from tiny liquor bottles and throwing burning cigarettes back and forth over the glass divider, hooting and hollering and calling each other names that would make a sailor blush.
I got the attention of one of the spectators long enough to finish my business, and made tracks for the house.

...I think I need to get away from this place.