|The scene below is what any given parking lot on any given night looks like in my current home town of Hockessin, Delaware.|
I realize that the photo is a bit dark, so, if you don't already get it, click on it and look at the larger version ... what I'm getting at should eventually dawn on you.
What you're looking at is a parking lot full of Big Fucking Trucks (tm). If you're not familiar with Delaware, you may be thinking "WOW, WITH ALL OF THEM THERE TRUCKS, YOU MUST LIVE UP IN THE MOUNTAINS OR SOMETHING." ... Hm. Well, lets pull out the old Geography book and clear that one up.
Delaware is sometimes called the Diamond State, a reference to its small size but relative wealth. With the Delaware River and Bay along its entire eastern edge, no place in the narrow state is far from water.
Many small rivers flow across the state, some flowing E to the Delaware, others W across Maryland to the Chesapeake. In the north the Christina and Brandywine flow into the Delaware; in the south the Nanticoke flows SW to Chesapeake Bay. The land is low-lying, from sand dunes in the south to rolling hills on the Pennsylvania border in the north; the average elevation is c.60 ft (18 m), and the highest point, NW of Wilmington on the Pennsylvania border, is only 440 ft (134 m). The capital is Dover , and the only large city is Wilmington .
So what important facts have we learned?
A.) There's sand dunes on Delaware's south beaches (Ha! No beach has those weird things. Better buy a dune buggy.)
B.) There's some hills in Pennsylvania. ...But, oh, wait. This is Delaware. Shit.
C.) (And Most Importantly!) The vast majority of the land is LOW-LYING.
So, okay. Are you convinced? ... Did my sales pitch work? ... Are you ready to trek on down to the Hummer Dealership?
Jesus Fucking Christ.
Yes, surprise surprise, I live in yet another sad utopia for ignorant rich fuckers, the same kind that's cookie-cutter stamped lovingly in delicious low-carb dough all around the nation.
For the most part, I have very little reason to complain. I've lived here all of my life, and the handful of intelligent people that I've come across have either already jumped ship, or talk/think about it every god damn day, as I'm sure they will until they finally watch this barren shitburg slowly disappear behind their extended middle finger. ... I need to get out. I know this, and I plan on it. For the moment, however, I'm stuck here, and, well ... Some shit needs to be said. Lots of it, in fact.
But I digress. In regard to "How Much Delaware Is A Piece Of Shit: In General", there's enough tangents I could go off on to fill every byte of the disc that sits in the server that runs this site. Another time. Lets get back to "Fun Facts: Hockessin and the people that inhabit it".
So, these people, they have their trucks, and, let me tell you, they fucking LOVE them. They love drivin'em around at absurdly unsafe speeds, they love parkin' em in those goddamn handy-crapped spots (haha! fuck you, cripple!), shit, they love straight up REPLACIN' those handy-crapped spots with spots marked "Parking Reserved for Expectant Mothers and those with Children" (haha! fuck you, cripple! I'm a lazy, knocked up, white trash piece of shit that doesn't want to walk three extra feet to the super market to pick up my go-gurt! How the fuck else am I gonna have the strength to squeeze the peanut butter out of a fucking plastic bag into my 14 other kids mouths!?) ... I'M NOT KIDDING HERE, FOLKS. THIS IS THE WAY SHIT ACTUALLY IS. So... Oh, crap. Am I going off again? ... Damn. I think you get it. These people are, on a whole, GREAT examples of human beings that I like A LOT.
I get home from work tonight, and, ha ha, look, one of the aforementioned geniuses was flying down our road at 90mph and landed his ass in a ditch right across our street. This pretty much happens every day in some form or another on the road that I live on.
So, dipshit sits out there and spins his wheels for a good half hour, until ... you guessed it ... another truck comes along and pulls him out. Once freed, they both speed off into the night, most likely to repeat the same scenario about 5 minutes down the road.
Hey. Guys. Do you think you could maybe, uh, look at the road? ... You know, put the cell phone down, pay a little less attention to the DVD, stop jacking yourself off, eating that cheeseburger, fingering your asshole, smacking your wife and yelling at your kids for the required amount of time it takes you to drive, oh, the 0.2 miles between "here" and "there" in our little town? ... Thanks!
Yeah. So I'm at home, and, it just so happens that I had been driving my parents car around. Mine had been broken into (See: Yet Another GFD I should have written) and is currently in a shop getting a window replaced. My parents needed the car back, so, they came over to pick it up.
My mom comes in, and sees one of my cats. She leans down and pets her.
"We just saw a cat...", she says. "Up the road. It was laying on the side of the road... It was pure white. It looked up at me... It wouldn't just be laying there. It must be hurt."
A few thoughts shot through my head. The truck caught in the ditch. The sound of it peeling out as it sped off. Another cat of mine, cheemo, that had disappeared outside over the summer. An utterly countless number of smashed animals I've seen dead on the road.
"Where?", I said. "Up near the stop sign...", she says.
"I'm going.", I said. "No, it's too dark, you'll get hit just like it did!", she says.
I started walking towards the door.
"No! ... I'll drive you!", she says.
As she carefully drove the 0.2 miles between my house and the stop sign, my mom did her best to mentally prepare me for what I was about to she. She knew very well what she had seen, and she also knows better than anyone the fragility of my heart. "Michael, there's nothing you can do, you know. ... I should have known not to tell you ... What are you going to do? Mi..." ... She slowly came around a bend in the road, and I saw it. "Oh my god. Oh, no, no, no, no, no", I said.
Have you ever seen a dying animal before? There's a look in their eyes. It's something I'm having trouble putting into words. It's ... "I don't understand... I don't understand..."
As we turned that corner and I saw it, that look ... that feeling ... saturated me. She was flailing around there on the side of the road, her hind legs completely smashed. Blood, torn bones, and pavement sickeningly contrasted against her white fur. "I don't understand... I don't understand... why don't my legs work? what's happened?" ... I know this feeling. I myself was hit by a car at 7 years old, my left leg smashed, and was pretty much left for dead. I remember regaining conciousness ... trying to stand up, only to find that I, somehow, was broken. There is nothing more I can say to you to try and explain how that feels.
Anger. Utter fucking disgust. Shame on you horrible fucking pricks. Fucking shame on every last one of you.
I jumped out of the car. "What are you doing!?", said my mom.
"I'm going into the neighborhood here to find the owner."
"BUT IT'S 10 O'CLOCK AT NIGHT!!!", she yelled.
"I DON'T CARE!" ...
But I considered that statement as I ran up the driveway of the first house I saw with a light on. Here I am, in a rich, white, suburban neighborhood, a stranger ... knocking on people's doors, at 10pm. ... Will they even answer the door? ... Will they shoot me? ... Christ, I'm only trying to help.
This is the world that we live in.
I knocked on the door. Sure enough, a minute or so later an all-too-cautious looking white man opened the door oh-so-slightly.
"Do you have a white cat?", I said. "No...", he said ... I explained. He seemed confused as to why I gave a shit, but nonetheless directed me towards a house across the street. "Thank You.", I said. "I'm sorry for bothering you."
I ran across the street as fast as I could. My mom had pulled into the neighborhood, and I briefly heard her flipping out talking to my stepdad, who had also pulled in to find out what the hell I was doing.
I ring the doorbell. A teenage girl peers out the thick glass, furls her face up in confusion, and reluctantly opens the door.
"Yes?", she said.
"Do you have a white cat...?", I said.
As she started to nod, things seemed to slow down for a moment. It occured to me what I had to tell her. I imagined myself in her position. ... My heart sank lower.
"The ... road... out ... on the road..." ... I couldn't find a way to say it.
She knew, though, Immediately. She started to scream. She ran back into the house. Her father ran out, protectively, hearing only his daughter screaming, and seeing only a stranger standing at his door. For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me. "YOUR CAT, YOUR CAT! OUT ON THE ROAD!" I said. He seemed to snap out out of it. The mother ran up the stairs. Before I knew it, I was leading them all down the driveway. My mom, trying to help, offered to drive them back out to the road. Once again, only a stranger was recognized. They refused.
We ran towards the road. The daughter continued to cry. The mother had a look of concern that seemed like it was probably the expression that spent the most time on her face. The father remained silent. I've never met this family before, but I feel like I know them.
The cat comes into view. the daughter screams. the mother calls for the cat. the cat recognizes the voice. she cries. In what is one of the saddest motions i've ever seen, she hoists herself up and runs across the road with her two front legs, her utterly broken hind quarters dragging limply on the pavement. the mother tries her best to pick her up without causing pain. she cries. she cradles her like a baby. the family runs with her together back towards the house, not saying a word to me or my parents. and, just like that, they were gone.
My mom drives me back home. As all good mothers do, she searched for words to try and make it all better. "That cat would have died right there on the road if you hadn't done that." ... but I didn't feel any better. Why did that have to happen? What had I just seen? What the FUCK is wrong with people? For that matter, quite possibly, what the fuck is wrong with me? ... "Thank you.", I said, and I got out of the car.
The only thing I could do at that point is something I often find myself doing ... Sitting alone, in my room, hugging one of my cats, and trying to think of nothing else other than that hug.
Get well soon.