ADULT- A LETTER FROM FALLING ROCK

Thought I’d drop you a line from Falling Rock, or maybe a pebble. The signs of spring are everywhere. There’s more falling rocks than you can shake a stick at, and even if you did, you’d still get hit. The tulips are popping, the daffodils are dazzling and the rolling fields of pot are in magnificent full bloom. And if the pot heads don’t smoke it all, it could be a banner year for a great cash crop of Mary Jane. Way to go, Co-Op!
The meth labs are bubbling and bubbling away waiting for the spring break college kids return to the Crystal Capital of the Country-Falling Rock. Pop’s Pharmacy and Solid Waste Removal Shit House is stocking boxes of date rape drugs right beside the Trojan vibrating rubbers and personal lubricating lotions. And the high school kids are screwing like the Las Vegas Bunny Ranch everywhere you go. Pregnancy tests are turning pink plus all over town.
Here’s a roll call of some of our town’s leaders and losers, so let’s rock and roll. Lil’ Tiny Tim just got out of prison due to bad behavior. He was too much for the state penal system. We’re so proud! Luckily, a license plate factory had already opened in town, so that on his first day of work he had more seniority than anyone there.
His parole agent, Tommy Lee Smith, thinks Timmy could become the “Parolee least likely to rob a convenience store with a bottle opener after he runs out of beer at 3 in the morning.” They give a ribbon for that. It’s a Pabst Blue Ribbon, but a ribbon none the less.
Bubba O’Bromaweitz was arrested for statutory rape after he tried to screw the Susan B. Anthony statue in the Old Maids’ Public Library. Bubba chipped his woody, so they let him off with a warning.
All the Gateway computers were confiscated by the police because they say they’re the Gateway computer to harder drives and heroin. The Falling Rock Swingers Club has been disbanded because its membership was down to one guy- Homer Handcock, who just wanted to get laid some weekend. He had no woman to share with anyone.
One of the Wal-Mart greeters cracked and started throwing carts at the customers coming in while shouting that the Devil lived in aisle 666. He was carted away. Then Satan came back from his break and asked what the devil had happened, while denying medical coverage for over half the store’s workers.
The pigeon slaughter house closed down because the one guy who ate pigeon pie every day, Garreth P. Featherston, was beaten to death by Brick, his homophobic waiter, for ordering his spotted dick for desert at the Buckingham Palace Hash House. He said “I’ll have your spotted dick, please.” not knowing that Brick had eczema down on his willywanger. After Brick found spotted dick on the British menu he apologized to Garreth’s corpse.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer, so she took after it in the pick-up and road killed that sucker into the rapture. Christmas was cancelled this past year in the holler due to Santa going to rehab for drunk diving too low.
Our cat, King Creole, caught 23 mice in the basement. They were all feeding on Aunt Lil, who had gone down there last New Year’s Eve to get some Moonshine Schnapps and hadn’t been seen since.
We’d put King out to stud, but he’s been spayed, so he’d just end up going thru the motions, not unlike the wife once a year on our anniversary.
Our town drunk, Bubba Fallindown, moved to Bub’s Brewery and Convalescence Home in Wet County, so we’ve been reduced to making fun of the school librarian, Miss Tiltbottom, who tends to overdo it on “all the Sangria you can drink Fridays” at Beefsteak Charlies.
Ronald McDonald, at the Meat Lane Mickey D’s, was arrested for having too many kids sitting lewdly on his lap during Happy Meal hour. They’d scrunch around on his lap wiggling till he levitated them. And the Hamburgler’s trial comes up on the docket next Monday for grabbing the Whopper in Big Jim Johnson’s pants.
Me and Bobbie McGee applied for that “American Idle” show saying we’ve been idle since the 60’s, when the guts from some road kill scared us so much on the way to our first job that we turned around and returned home. And we haven’t worked since. It turns out that “American Idle” is a singing contest, so we stopped applying for contests too.
Uncle Sally got a promotion to janitor at the sewage treatment plant, where, frankly, he has to put up with a lot of shit. But after years of taking his dates down there, he finally got lucky.
Dad had our family tree done and discovered that one of our descendants, Jimmy Crack Corn, could have signed the Declaration of Independence, but he don’t care. How ‘bout that!!
Goodbye from Falling Rock-where all the men are dented (from those falling rocks), the women are clueless and the children could care less.

Semi Sincerely,
Billy Bob Bobbey