Coon Asses

I find crumpled notes stuffed in my bag with words like Coon Ass, big dog, and oyster shells written on them. The story is, I can not write entries for my blog while at work so I am forced to write notes to myself and try to decode them. Some times, I have no idea what I was thinking. Luckily, this time I remember.

There is a big FEMA trailer lot on the government center complex. Is is supposed to be for emergency personnel, doctors, judges, government officials, and the like.

The trailer right by the entry is home to the the biggest coon ass (aka bubba)I have ever seen. The guy is 250 pounds, always sweaty and full of tattoos. He has lost most of his hair up top, but has long greasy locks down the back that go to his shoulder. He has a devil dog that he ties up on his trailers porch that goes postal, barking and throwing himself against his leash in a fit of deafening blind rage, every time I walk by. Mr. Coon Ass has thrown all his oyster shells, some with rotting oyster meat still attached, under his porch, attracting flies and emitting a putrid odor so unpleasant one expects to see a cartoon like animation of swirling dark stinkyness rising from it. I am not sure what essential job he does, but I see him at home at all hours of the day.

Is it any wonder the state is questioning the purchase and distribution of trailers to "emergency personnel.

You got to love the County!