Giddy-Up

Preparing for a visit to my old hometown is like preparing for a trip to Hell. You cannot pack enough heat when you are in the grip of the Satanic Majesty of Sliverville. There is but one trick to increase your odds of getting home without getting in a hassle: get there early, but not too early, the Devil does not like getting up in the morning.

Breakfast seemed like a good idea when I got there so I stopped into the Giddy-Up, one of the few old time businesses not driven out by taxation, by-law enforcement motherfuckers, and other protection rackets. The place has been sharpened up inside and out so maybe the Giddy-Up will be there for a long time yet.

Inside I looked around for an empty table. Every table was taken with hookers, pimps, dope dealers and police. I was going to sit down at the counter when Ray and I recognized each other at the same time.

"Beer, you sloshed cunt. Have a seat."

"Ray, you crazy motherfucker. How the fuck are you?"

Before I even had a chance to sit down I had a coffee in front of me. The Giddy-Up might be a little slow getting your food to you but they are fast as a government appointed board of directors giving themselves a whopping big pay rise with the coffee.

Ray is my brother's wife's brother. He was sitting with his husband Barry. Used to be every time I saw Ray he had a new guy in the middle of a sex change on his arm. Now he's settled down like the rest of us.

"Me and Barry are fostering a kid now. He's a crack baby and I guess his mom was on the booze too. The government pays us a shitload to take care of him. They even provide someone to watch him twice a month so we can both get out of the fucking house together. And we are still in The Business too. If house prices ever drop we might even be able to afford one in this over-priced town one day."

Barry does not look like the sort of guy Ray would end up hooked up with. He looks like a member of some Hells Angels' crew. He agreed with Ray like a good husband usually does.

"It's pretty fucking bad when dope growers as good as us can't find a house that hasn't been a crackhouse for the last twenty years to buy in this fucked up city."

The food was fantastic as the bill is going to be for our 2010 Olympics. How can you beat Ukrainian sausage, pyrogies, eggs and homemade toast for breakfast? Ray picked up the tab for my breakfast after I told him I might be able to help him with his business.

Then I got my business done and headed back to Steepleton before the Devil awoke from his nightmares.