I wrote it down somewhere but that place ain't to be found. Pretty sure it was a better version of the story but I guess this is the best version you gonna get.
Besides, what is a story? I saw somewhere, in the Book of Daniel, the one with all them words that it was an event. It had more to it but all I got was some stuff happens. If you need to cipher out these words to find something that happens then you probably need to examine your life for a minute.
I guess we all get some tales that ain't no one we know got and one no one ain't gonna ever have, Sometimes you just get pushed through the day and it rolled by like nothing else has or will and you need to tell it to someone. Now it doesn't always make sense or strike you as nothing early on but then you find yourself going back through it while you go to work and you lived through that bit that made the lost parts real to you.
I was brought back to it headed to work. It was a long, bad night. The weather was off and I ended up sleeping in my truck. That always sucks. There's worse places to be but if it's in your driveway then something happened. We had fought about me being stupid. It ain't like we do that all the time but life ain't quite as happy as the movies want us to believe.
Well, on the way and feeling a bit tuned to the emotions of the world and something about the wind smelling like the big fields across the river brought it back.
My grandpappy had died and there was a couple of us there to bury him. His neighbor was the minister and he sad some kind words and I helped my uncles dig the hole. We all said our pieces and then put the box down there. We were quiet for a few minutes just with ourselves even though we were all there together. You know, each person had his own way of living with the man. He took me deer hunting and taught me to make a nail. It's enough hold everything together and keep you fed so that is worth something.
We were about to start filling the hole up when my grandma walked over to the edge of the grave, hiked up her dress, squatted, and took the biggest piss I had ever seen all over her dead husband. She wasn't a woman to be trifled with and she had her reasons but I couldn't understand this. The two were always together. They were what love is in this unreasoning world. They say Jesus is love and if he is then he was real between those two and that is real enough to make me believe. And there she was, just pissing like she had been holding it all in for fifty years. I couldn't even figure out where it all came from.
When it cam back to me, it seemed that she had to deal with so much crap and the only one who really cared was in that hole. He was there to deal with the stupidity and hate and this was the last chance she would have for that. Her dead husband would want her to do that figuring it made her feel a little better and he would be dead, who care what anyone else thinks.