TEXAS BOUND AND FLYIN'
Dope and shit ate up our paycheck pronto, so we packed up the GTO and carried the blushing bride across the threshold of Texas. Where things promptly turned to shit, no job no money no dope it's as simple as that. So we turned to crime, the other white work, in the form of burgling urban environments while their tenants were not in residence. We mostly took jewelry, but we would most definitely stoop to electronics, despite the simply breathtaking drop in resale value of such commodities. Because dope don't sleep, and the shit simply never stopped piling up, in the form of our bride's getting a DUI with the kid in the backseat with $200 worth of vicodin stuffed down his diapers, which got us mentioned, and not in a positive light, in the newspapers. So we had to get her out, and promptly cut and run, but the GTO kicked the bucket about an hour outside Dallas which made us wish we'd taken that night train to Memphis, or hunkered down and signed up for the methadone, but no instead we had to abandon practically everything, including our precious collection of Jerry Reed eight-tracks, which that was eight years and two stints in prison ago but we still regret it more than anything, including the end of our marriage, a bust for grand larceny, and the loss, in a fall from a third storey window, of nine of our good strong teeth.