The evening of fun and frolic at the McKluskey residence was just getting started.  Bubba and Darlene, Yours Truly and Joletta, wasted and wanting more, always more.

     I snatched up the guitar before Bubba could get his greedy hands on it.

     “I wrote this song one time…” I said.

     Bubba guffawed.  Darlene slapped him a good one.

     “I call this little ditty ‘Widow at Nineteen’.

                                     Johhny went to war to prove himself a man

                                     He did it for his country

                                     He did it for his mom and dad

                                     Becky met him at the station

                                     Before the train arrived she cried

                                     ‘Why are you doing this to me?

                                      I won’t make a very good widow at nineteen’

                                    Johnny had tears in his eyes as he said ‘Goodbye

                                    See you later’

                                    Th-th-that’s all, folks

                                    Becky felt like someone ripped out her heart

                                    She ran to the bathroom

                                    And got sick in a ten-cent stall.”

     “Kind of an anti-war song, ain’t that nice.”  Bubba didn’t like anti-war songs.  Bubba liked war songs.

     “Hell no, Bubba,” I replied.  “It’s a song about fuckin’.  I figure, anything that increases the number of single women is a good thing.”

     It was Joletta’s turn to do some slappin’.

     I was on a roll.

     “Here’s another one of those ‘Mom and Dad Made Me Do It’ songs called-” background belch from Bubba “-‘Guilt Express’.

                                  Stan figured he had it all figured out

                                  Go to college and excel in the mold

                                  His father had made for him

                                  And marry a nice girl

                                  But Stan’s- taking a rollercoaster ride

                                                    On the Guilt Express

                                                    He heard it was healthy

                                                    And so he embraces it

                                                    Stan was the driver of the car on that fatal night

                                                    When he lost control of his life

                                 The mother and father of the unlucky girl

                                 Had come to see him in his hospital bed

                                 Angry shouts and threats of criminal charges

                                 Held over his head

                                 The trial was quick and to the point

                                 Stan was guilty

                                 (Stan already knew that)

                                 And he played that role to the end

                                 Of the noose he made from his bedsheets.”

     “Ain’t no woman worth killin’ yerself fer,” Bubba opined.  Bubba’s a pretty enlightened kind of gentleman.

     “I tend to agree, Bubba,” I slurred. “If anyone’s got to go, best it be her, that’s what grandpa always said.”

     Joletta and Darlene called it a night. They knew nothing good ever came after me and Bubba started speculating on their murders.

     I passed out that night in Joletta’s arms, wrapped in a Barney the Dinosaur blanket. She was always there to save me.

2026 R.M. Reliable Electric