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Jett Superior laid this on you on || February 22, 2007 || 10:55 pm

Another excerpt….

because it’s about damned time.

Father hated the nickname with a passion. Momma’s family was older and bluer of blood than his, but they cut up and danced and laughed their way through life. Father secretly longed to be one of them part and parcel –and could have been for all it’s worth– but wore his Delta nobility like a shield: Hard and quiet until something came against it.

Time and time again the matter came up.

“Olivia, Thunderpants is a pet name. It’s a name that shouldn’ta followed him out of the confines of his crib, much less these four walls! I feel goddamn silly when someone in town asks, ‘How’s that Thunderpants coming along,’ or ‘Thunderpants grows handsomer every day, doesn’t he?’”

“Well Henry, I hope the Lord’s not counting your foul use of His name,” my mother would say with a marked lack of anger, but with a certain red-lipsticked defiance, “and as to Thunder, it’s a damn sight better’n Bubba or Junior.” There would be silence then, because of course my father agreed. He was a practical man and if momma was anything, she was long on two important things: Legs and common sense.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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