|| — risin’. All dark, furioush and dangerous. Most days I could go whole weeks without it ever rearin’ itsh head. Ain’t had a temper like —

|| — my brothers. But when it came to Trigger, Repubicans, misconshoptions, and those special times when the moon was shinin’ like the eye —

|| — a’ God. Whale, it just got my dander all up. My foot went to bouncin’. Up and down. Up and down. Quick like. Skin got hot like fire, —

|| — and my jaw started to hurt on account of how hard I was clenchin’ it. “I just thought you oughta know..” I forced a smile and —

|| — nodded before bitin’ the inside of my lip until it bled. Wasn’t nobody loud to talk trash bout Trigger cept family, and I’d slit —

|| — somebody’s throat once fer sayin’ less. Body was real good for my petunias out back. So without a word, I turned and went back in the —

|| — house, hearin’ her screechin’ voice call for me, askin’ me what I was gon’ do bout Trig, and I pulled the shot gun off the wall, —

|| — loaded it with ease before I headed back towards the door. Her eyes barely had a second to register the shadow before they widened —

|| — and she was backin’ away real quick like, fat jigglin’ like jingle bells at Christmas, or Jell-O, and I barely gave her a second —

|| — before I shot a hole clear through the screen hittin’ that elephont purse and narrowly missin’ her hip by an inch as I kicked the —

|| — screendoor open to send her racin’ off towards her car.:| My brother ain’t no child moleshter, you no good yellow bellied slack —

|| — jawed piece a’ shit! Get the hell off my property for’ I use that carcass a’ yours for my daffydills! |:I released another shot, —

|| — that one echoin’ through the trees as it hit the ground near her runnin’ feet, the smoke and smell of lead in the air. She tore out —

|| — the dirt driveway like fire was on her ass, and I stormed out to the raggedy pickup I used to go to town in, throwin’ the shotgun —

|| — onto the passenger side before I hopped in. Ain’t remember the keys so I had to hotwire it, and it sputtered to life, all blowin’ —

|| — smoke and hotshots before I put it in gear. Trigger wasn’t no pedophile, but wasn’t nar’ hurr nor thurr if more gossipin’ biddies —

|| — got hole of it, or that trouble makin’ Chelsea told a phallush. I’d scalp her if she did. Scalp her and cut her tits clean off. Make —

|| — Pervish gut her. Had to keep these damn boys outta trouble, and I swore sometimes I was the only sane one. But that was nar’ hurr —

|| — nor thurr.:|

Nar’ Hurr nor Thurr Read: tl.gd/n_1sp30iv