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Mississippi Windsor-Plantation-Ruins by Mockingbird

   She was still maniacally clutching the eerily bloodless clump of Suzi's straw blond hair as he bound her wrists together with three large translucent zip ties.  She growled and chanted obscenities at the police officer, her loosened dental plate rattling and distorting the words sh*t and as**ole.  The diamond earring in her left ear had snagged on Suzi's sweater, slightly tearing her ample ear lobe; a drop of blood falling on the officers exposed wrist as she tried head butting him, the momentum of her wildly swinging head loosing spittle from her open, snarling mouth -- splattering packages of neatly stacked pork chops and baby back ribs. 

   At some point during the scuffle she and Suzi had collapsed into the meat cooler, littering the shiny concrete floor with packages of chicken gizzards and boneless chicken thighs, Suzi's small son had slipped and fallen in the chicken water and blood, desperately trying to help his Mom by yanking on the older woman's purse.  She had violently kicked at the child, loosing her expensive designer pump -- it lodging in an end cap of marinades and large turkey syringes; shouting at the child, "F**k you, you little rat", over and over.  The store manager held the shaking, moaning child as the EMS people loaded Suzi onto a hard, plastic stretcher; immobilizing her scratched and bleeding head with blue plastic pads and a strap. 

   The older woman, somehow supernaturally strong, broke free from the officer's grasp, lunging, slipping in the chicken and pig blood, without the use of her arms to break her fall, she fell hard, loud on her right shoulder, the sound of her collar bone snapping ringing out thru the meat department -- causing a number of the assembled store customers to become nauseated and disoriented.  As she lay unnaturally still on the gore splattered concrete, the contents of her purse tumbled around her, her i-phone in its gold and jeweled case sounding out her ring tone, "I Did It My Way", her husband on the other end calling to remind her to pick up a bottle of scotch and to make reservations at the "Club."  One of the EMS persons started and hastily left Suzi's side to assist the, now writhing, woman, she attempting to kick at him with her shoeless foot, the angry police officer forcefully kneeling and pinning her tanned, athletic legs to the oily concrete.  Two female officers arrived, one assisting the officer holding the incoherently babbling and shouting woman to the floor, the other querying the incredulous shoppers how and what had happened here. 

   A young woman with two small children in a large cartoonish shopping cart meant to look like a smiling dragon, approached the inquiring officer, saying that she knew Suzi and "The other lady is her mother in law.  They don't get along.  Her father in law, that woman's husband, is some bigwig in the oil business -- I think Suzi's husband works for him, anyway, Suzi did something with that Occupy thing last year, I bet that's what this is all about...Suzi is different...

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Kevin is (writing about yourself in the third person (illeism) is a trip) an artist/writer/carpenter and frustrated songwriter living in Johnson City, Texas. His latest frustrating songwriting attempt is titled, "I Touched the Hand That Touched (more...)

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They might live next door  --  how do we... by Kevin Tully on Wednesday, Nov 27, 2013 at 9:30:18 AM