I just wanted some donuts.
You know, the good ones. The ones you have to go downtown for. The sort you can sink your teeth into and easily pretend that they were not made with the same garbage ingredients as the ones at the chain two blocks from your house.
The day was bright and crisp.
Not crisp like a day old yeast donut, because that’s not really something I would know about. It was a confused cold sort of crisp, which happens when winter can’t decide if it should pretend to be spring or not. Your skin can’t decide it if ought to be chapped. The plants can’t decide if they should be dead.
The homeless man on the street corner appeared to be having the same debate as the plants. This man is a fixture of our downtown. He oscillates between mumbling and yelling at the imaginary person at his shoulder that is his constant companion and archenemy. He has a round body and wears a black trench coat even in the sweat-your-skin-off kind of summer heat we have. And he sometimes hovers at the edge of the sidewalk where he parks his shopping cart.
He hovers there, uncertain whether he is crossing traffic or staying behind. His body is in a constant state of swaying, making it difficult to tell if that is simply his version of waiting patiently or if he is planning to jump out in front of a slow-moving vehicle and win himself a broken bone or a concussion. His oscillating inspires everyone trying to turn at his corner to oscillate between mumbling “don’t do it” to yelling “Don’t do it!” Because, well, he is insane, and nobody can ever quite be sure what he will do.
“Don’t do it,” I mumbled as slowly the cars ahead of me safely made it by him and my turn approached.
Not to me. Surely there is someone else in this line that would be less freaked out by having to hit or nearly hitting a homeless man.
But everyone I could see through the rearview mirror looked like normal, kindhearted people with consciences.
And then I saw him.
I Knew He Didn’t Have A Soul Because His Truck Had The Redneck Lean
Alright, that might be a little harsh as a heading. He probably had a soul, just not a viable brain.
In case you aren't aware, The Redneck Lean is when the front of the truck is raised up higher than the back. It's stupid, I know.
Truthfully, the people with viable brains in my society don’t call what he did to his perfectly innocent truck “The Redneck Lean.” Instead, in the name we put a specific redneck town that seems to birth a hearty population of rednecks and their trusty steeds. Innocent trucks are bought in other towns and brought there to that redneck town, where some mechanic version of Victor Frankenstein then mutilates them, and they are driven out with that embarrassing condition called The __________ Lean. Specifics matter not, because every region has their own version of this problem, so insert into the blank the redneck town of your choice.
You could hear him coming even with the windows rolled up, because it matters not how cold it is outside. People that follow The Redneck Lean lifestyle must abide by a certain code of conduct. As follows:
First, one must always have the windows down so that everyone within six blocks is forced to submit to young redneck music.
Second, you must play that music that everyone over the age of twenty-five thinks sounds like someone shouting on a megaphone while using something electronic to morph their constant stream of farts into something that sounds vaguely like a musical beat.
Thirdly, there is a strict dress code—camo, camo, and camo. Except the shoes—those shall be pristine white and an expensive name brand, because a young redneck man must show the world that he is not a person to be trifled with.
And last, but not least, the young redneck must stare at people out of his window with a devious expression, like he knows he put a booger under your desk, because he hasn’t developed intellectually beyond the third grade.
The Light Turned Red And The Homeless Man Trotted Along The Crosswalk Nimbly
There may have been an audible sigh as all of us drivers released it in unison, but we don’t know, because no one could hear anything over the sound of Redneck Boy’s musical farts. Being the jerky character that he is, he decided to cut off a few cars behind me and zoomed into the lane next to me, and as luck would have it, he stopped right next to me.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look! Don’t make eye contact! Don’t do it…don’t…damn it!
Telling yourself not to look at the doofus idling next to you is kind of like telling yourself not to pop the bubble that somebody just blew right in front of your nose. It’s like telling yourself that you shouldn’t want to punch the redneck that put a booger under your desk. It is like telling yourself not to eat the last donut because it is totally fine if it goes stale overnight. You tell yourself, but you do the opposite.
Yep, just as suspected—there was a stupid devilish smirk on his face with eyes obscured by sunglasses that reflected me back. He cocked his head to the side to look more intently at me.
Oh my god, he thinks I like him! He thinks I am making eye contact because I think he is cool. Sweet Jesus, he thinks a woman of thirty-five would actually bat an eyelash at someone playing musical farts inside a truck that he intentionally deformed with his father’s money while dressed like his eyeballs are going skiing but his forehead is deer hunting!
I scanned the homeless man ambling along up ahead. He had crossed the road at that point and was going about his business while swatting angrily at the invisible person next to him. I shifted my eyes narrowly back at Redneck Boy, and then back again. Which was more insane? The man that happened to have a nervous tick that disrupted society inadvertently at crosswalks, and happens to also have an invisible foe he fights with because he can’t help it; or, a man who intentionally disturbs the peace by being himself, and has visible foes in every direction because he chooses to be obnoxious?
Clearly, Redneck Boy was more insane.
When I Looked Back Again His Smirk Had Deepened
It was pretty obvious he thought he was quite a catch and that I was a fisherwoman eyeing him hopefully with net in hand.
No!
I’m pretty sure I was just screaming internally. Pretty sure.
I will crush his ego! I will smash it into little tiny redneck pieces that will be unrecognizable except for the stupid musical farts they emit!
The light turned green and, predictably, he floored it out of there, because, you know, he is so cool. I listened as the sound of his farts became less and less audible, and the sound of my female Hulk-style breathing beginning to slow. I blinked as I started to see clear blue sky again, instead of just the red of blinding rage.
“You need to calm down,” I mumbled to myself. “My god, insanity is contagious. I’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
I successfully made it around the corner, with no homeless people in sight, and no stupid fart music.
I just wanted some donuts.
Thanks @kryptik for the invitation. Sorry if this is not very #fuckery. I’m familiar with fuck as a verb, and an adjective and an adverb, but I’m not sure that I have mastered fuckery. But here it is and now I’m going to go eat some leftover donuts.
Awesome donuts! Although the fruit content seems kinda high!
I know exactly the kind of person ole Redneck is. We have them here but with a bit less camo and smaller cars. The very same music tho!
Ha, yes, the fruit content was higher than expected. Surprise - one of the many wonderous things about these donuts. Totally worth braving Redneck Boy and the homeless man for them.
I wonder if it would be immediately obvious to a foreigner. Like if I showed up in Scotland and saw one, would I shake my head and mumble Damn Scottish rednecks.
You would probably think why do they let rats dress in human clothes and ferret about the streets on two feet?
Ha! Oh I'd love to see one now. I love all this cultural stuff, I find it fascinating. We humans are pretty interesting critters.
In my mind the terms hillbilly and redneck are in the same family tree.
Here's an interesting little bit about the etymology of hillbilly since we're on the subject of rednecks and Scotland:
"The Appalachian Mountains were settled in the 18th century by settlers primarily from England, lowland Scotland, and the province of Ulster in Ireland. The settlers from Ulster were mainly Protestants who migrated to Ireland from Scotland and Northern England during the Plantation of Ulster in the 17th century. Many further migrated to the American colonies beginning in the 1730s, and in America became known as the Scots-Irish.[6]
Scholars argue that the term "hillbilly" originated from the Scottish dialect. The term "hill-folk" referred to people who preferred isolation from the greater society, and "billy" meant "comrade" or "companion". It is suggested that "hill-folk" and "Billie" were combined when the Cameronians fled to the hills of southern Scotland.[7] There is also the belief that most of the settlers from Scotland and Northern Ireland were followers of King William of Orange. 'Billy' is a diminutive of 'William' common across the British and Irish isles. The term hillbilly connects the people who settled in America in the hills and who were Williamites."
Very interesting. Some of my people settled in that area originally. I suppose I may as well just buy myself a truck and have a talk with Victor Frankenstein about making it lean ;)
How you been man?
I kind of started a community in the spirit of the old Steemit.chat.
You're going to have to regrettably break out the old acoustic and post a song there for old time's sake.
Thankfully every platform I posted any guitar on died and the music was erased.
Hey dudeski! Hows it going!
Ah the old acoustic, it would be fun to crack that one out. What is this community. At the very least I could lurk :OD
It’s slow going man. I work more than anyone I know.
Hopefully it’ll get going over a couple of months.
https://peakd.com/c/hive-195212/created
I have subscribed! I am not a huge community poster but I might give it a shot 😃
No commitments are required. Thanks man I appreciate it.
We have crazy redneck bogans over here too @ginnyannette, when a rider on his motorbike goes up or down the road making he makes that extra crazy loud noises and then there are the souped up cars that go like bats out of hell with extra loud deep base pumping noise oops music. But no homeless guys in our suburbs thank goodness because I know that it is best not to do any eyeballing.
Hope you enjoyed your donuts, you earned them!
Oh no, I can't escape them even if I go all the way to Australia? I will just find the Australian version?! Oh that's terrible news. Thanks for the warning:)
And thanks for reading. I did enjoy those donuts!
Nothing nicer than something sweet.
Goshhhh, those rednecks exist everywhere! Under different names, guises, and cars, but they are everywhere... - with same roaring music (techno comes to mind), car disco lights and what we call road scanners (yup, under the car - idk, maybe they help ants cross the road....), always with the sunglasses - reflective, preferably... and they lurrveee revving the cars/bikes/whatnot! I always say, I got to carry a hammer or something to knock their exhaust pipes off one of these days... At least you had donuts
Haha! I wonder if you would find my rednecks more tolerable, and I yours? I'm sure the newness would wear off in a few months, but might make for a nice program: The Redneck Relief Program. We can just trade homes for a few months now and then to get a break from our own rednecks and learn to dislike ones in other cultures. I will definitely bring my hammer for the pipes :D
Haha! I'm sure these guys would love to be known for their compassion toward ants:)
Wow! A For-Rednecks-Research (FRR) Exchange Programme.... lol
Oh that's event better. Perfect:)
Here.... it's called the Carolina Squat ! ahahahahahaha.... impressive name to go with impressive jacking up of a car. Last December 1st, they made a LAW here in NC regulating how high they can be, which is not very high. Many disappointed Squatters.... how DARE they ??? Evidentally it is unsafe to not be able to see over your hood while you are driving.
Those donut looks devine, well, after I pull the blueberries off.
Every town has to have one of those homeless people that is around forever, standing on the corner in a heavy dress military coat (even if they were never in the military), no matter that it's mid summer.
You big flirt !!! 😄
Ah, yes, I've heard that Carolina Squat term. You know my pain well then. There are no laws here thus far, because they are few and far between. The redneck town I mentioned is close by here, but they don't seem to drive here too often.
The donuts were amazing and I regret that they are gone.
Isn't that interesting how they always have the coat? And isn't it interesting how schizophrenics always seem to dwell on anger? Wouldn't it be lovely if you they could be crazy but in a happy way, instead of a negative way? Like instead of that guy trying to hit his imaginary friend, he could be giving it a hug. Shame.
Pretty sure that is exactly what Redneck Boy said in his head while I was mentally punching him in the face. :)
There was definitely some fuckery involved.
There’s so much I want to unpack here but first let me say that this ugly little mermaid is in love with your style of writing. Great job.
They do make camo crocs. Shoes don’t always have to be white.
My car sounds like a stream of farts as well. I could never put myself up to buying a new car. The depreciation hurts my soul. Instead I bought every 15 year boy’s circa 2000 dream of owning a grossly lowered Honda Civic equipped with a fart cannon and paint damage. I’m very lucky that I work in town as a firefighter/paramedic or I’m sure the police would pull me over daily.
Something resonated with me and the description of the homeless guy as oscillating. I really again want to say I love your descriptions. Do you have anything written in long form? If not let me know when you do and I’ll be one of your first customers.
Like most things in my life, the community thing is off to a slow start. I love packing on loads of work that I can’t ever reasonably finish. Any contribution is great.
The intention of the community was just to embrace different and to tell the story only you can tell. I wanted a reflection of the dirty messy irony of life that I love. Save the pristine projections of perfection somewhere else.
Oh good, I'm glad some fuckery was mixed in there.
The rednecks here must not have heard about these camo crocs, or maybe they just wear them on special occasions. Weddings, and the likes.
If you add some under car lighting and loudly play techno music you might be able to qualify as a Malaysian redneck with that car, according to the comment above. The escaping tickets because of healthcare job does seem to be a universal thing. My husband has escaped a few over the years because of wearing his scrubs. I guess police think of you all as one of them, or they just don't want to look up from a stretcher and see the face of the guy they gave a ticket to yesterday. Maybe some of both.
I'm honored that you liked it - that makes it worth all the effort to type the words out with these crab claws. And I like your idea of a community embracing the dirty messy irony of life. There are some of us out there that do this sort of thing, but we are lost in the surplus of nature photos and travel posts.