My Ding-A-Ling and Drunken Chicklets

Lawd it's Friday. Can I get a big ol' Amen?

I was greeted by a thin, white blanket of snow covering Frog Pond Holler when I peeked out the front door this morning. I'd heard them mention the possibility of white stuff on the radio a few times yesterday, but I didn't really take it to heart.

The rumor mill has gone apechit crazy here in the holler the past few days. There are only three paved roads leading out of town, the main one crossing an old river bridge. Big eighteen wheelers aren't allowed to cross the bridge on the Tennessee side, heading towards Scary Hillbilly Town and the road leading up Fall Branch is off limits to trucks due to the sudden, death tempting, switchback curves.

I spent many hours during my VFD days, flagging traffic while we waited for the big tow truck to show up and pull the rig of some poor, clueless and now tinkle covered driver up from the embankment.

That leaves the bridge that crosses the river in the middle of town, heading out towards Big City as the only way for truck drivers to deliver and pick up anything and everything here in Frog Pond Holler. Rumor is that they'll be putting a weight limit on the bridge, stopping most, if not all big rigs from crossing.

Everyone in town is in a wad over this latest news. The Grab n' Go (and go and go) gets it's food deliveries on a big rig. Beer trucks deliver to the campground store and Ken's Convenience, Tanning Bed, Laundry Mat and Pool Hall. Here at the Asylum, we get ginormous truck loads of steel, boxes and other assorted industrial.. things. We ship our product in boxes small enough to go UPS, but we also ship out pieces that are so large we can walk through them. Once a week, when we ship out to the various distribution centers of our one Big Azz customer, there is an entire convoy of trucks lined up in our parking lot, waiting for their load.

What the hell are we supposed to do if they close the bridge to truck traffic?

There's a town meeting tonight. PG is supposed to attend in order to sort the fact from rumor and report back to us all on Monday.

In other news:

Ya'll remember the car PG told me he'd sell the Amazon, then turned around and sold to the chicklet out on the floor who likes to get drunk and raise hell all weekend, coming in draggin' ass on Monday mornings, all hungover and suffering from the bad haircut she gave herself with a pocket knife while in a drunken stupor the night before?

Yeah.. that one. Drunken Chicklet drove the 1998 Grand Am in to the railing on the bridge this morning.

*cough*

She didn't get hurt, but the car got banged up pretty good.

Anywho...

The Amazon scored a second part time job for the holidays, ringing a bell for the Salvation Army.

The fruit of my womb, the professional Ding-a-Ling.

Bossman has strolled by here about six times in the past thirty minutes. I'd better get some actual work done before I get busted.

Ya'll hang in there. This one's almost licked.

Later Taters!