Flee from the Flea

[tinhuviel]

I got up at the crack of dawn to get ready to spend the whole of my morning and part of the afternoon at the Barnyard flea market with Aunt Tudi. Nothing makes me happier than to peddle my belongings to holier-than-thou Rednecks on a Sunday morning in the Bible Belt. I'd rather gnaw on a raw ball and socket joint fresh off a hyaena corpse that's been lying in the equatorial sun long enough to bloat up than do this, but do it I must. I'm taking the computer with me so I can maybe get in some writing (if that's possible at all) and ignore the uncontrolled stupidity that's burgeoning all around me as the slack-jawed local yokels come and paw my stuff whilst they grin blankly at us as though we should thank them for their intrusion and failure to part with their money so that we can get the hell out of there earlier than 1 PM.

And people wonder why I'm a misanthrope.