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298 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2006







She works the afternoon shift at the grocery store, so all morning long and all night long it’s that same crap, over and over again. ‘Yo-yo-yo.’ The bass is enough to make your ears bleed. Nobody listens to real music anymore. Just that nigger noise.”
I cringed, the way I do anytime I’m reminded that there are still small-minded racist assholes living in small-town Pennsylvania—even ones with religious slogans embroidered on their aprons.
Immediately we headed for Cliff’s friend’s house. That took us another fifteen minutes. His friend, Carl, lived on theother side of town in a ramshackle trailer. It squatted on a small lot, sandwiched between two other trailers, and looked like it had been new back in the sixties. A gray-primer-colored Trans Am and a rusty minivan sat in the driveway. The Trans Am needed a new state inspection sticker and registration, and the minivan needed its engine block lifted up and a whole new van shoved beneath it. The side panels and tailpipe were rusted out, and a large crack ran across the passenger’s side of the windshield. The yard was full of trash: junked cars, bald tires, broken children’s toys, a chipped ceramic deer, empty beer cans (Old Milwaukee, the discriminating Pennsylvanian redneck’s beer of choice), and other debris. The only thing missing was a big Confederate flag hanging from the porch. Inside the trailer somebody had the television turned up as loud as it would go. They were watching wrestling.