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Coon Hunting in the Brambles
This fella – he’s a real gem.
The kinda fella, who leaves his fingerprints all over a crime scene… along with his photo, on a bloody Louisiana drivers license, dropped on the portico, as he struggled with the victim.
A real smart sort of fella – who throws his weapon in the first nearby stream, just three blocks down the road from the scene.
A hearty well-thought-out fella – that doesn’t use cash to buy his weapons. Only credit cards.
And when you go to interview this fella – his face and neck are hallmarked in deep scratches. And yes – the missing flesh, is under the victims fingernails.
But says this bright-eyed fella, he wasn’t the one to do the pretty work.
No Sir, this God-fearing fella, he tells us he got these scratches – from Coon Hunting in the Brambles.
Yep, you heard it right… “Coon Hunting in the Brambles.”
In the department, they call these kinda fellas – “Barrel Fish.”
My grandfather used to say, “What we got here boys, Is One Dumb-Ass Son of a Bitch.”
Now, this super-clever fella… he’s Coon Hunting on The Farm.
And I like that he’s there.
A fella like that, well, what can you say. He’s a real gem.
The sort of gem – that wears an Albatross around his neck… and then wonders, how things went wrong.
Anyway, that’s my two cents, on Mr. Taylor.
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The conversational tone of
The conversational tone of yours words cleverly dangles, but does not disclose, a huge backstory behind the incidents you are describing. I read this in between viewing segments of the film that I consider the greatest and most poetic ghost story every committed to celluloid---so I was well prepared and, yet paradoxically, not at all prepared for this very effective tale to work its process.
Starward
Some funny folks in the world
Some real funny folks in the world. Some folks that live in their own world – and think no one can see into it. They always end in trouble soon enough. And The Farm ain't no place to be.