Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Billy Mondria killin’ hisself last summer was the best thing ever happened to me.
That’s the kinda mess I say that makes my momma screech that I’m goin’ to hell at the heels of the Devil inc…incarnate, I think is what she says. Don’ really know what that means.
I was screwed up in the head ‘fore Billy died.
Didn’t really have no… priorities. Or the ones I did have was other people’s priorities.
Billy left this note, said he wasn’t good at nothin’, couldn’t play no sports or a musical instrument and he had ecsemuh and he didn’t feel like he had a life worth nothin’, and the only damn way he’d ever get his name in the newspaper was by dyin’.
I felt bad for Billy, but he was right, because they put his name in the newspaper.
If you’re gonna die, might as well die bein’ right, I guess.
Anyway, this lady Edna Arthur, she decided that once a week-in Dambersville not shit happens, so we only get a once a week newspaper- she decided that erry week she was gonna plaster a new kid in the paper, talk to ‘em, let em say what they was hopin’ and dreamin’ about and what bugged ‘em and stuff.
She decided she was gonna go in reverse alfabetcal order, which is outta order if ya ask me, but anyway, she talked to kids and put their school picture in the Gazette and it was a thing. Like kids were wantin’ to do it bad, and all of a sudden they was mad that their name started with like, C , and stuff because it was gonna be a while fore old Miss Arthur got to ‘em.
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