Read Online In the Forest of Light and Dark by Mark Kasniak - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Kasniak
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ignorant, chain-smoking redneck, and all-in-all general assholes in the Southern U.S. It’s the Mecca of What-the-fuck!
So, of course, like all good white trash from Alabama does, we had breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a Waffle Castle the first day of our trip. Then after our over-night in Kentucky, we had it again for breakfast and then again for lunch. We would’ve even had it again for dinner that evening, but we ended up eating at a Burger King due to my mama’s refusal to eat at a Waffle Castle again. That, and the fact that she had also threatened to divorce my step daddy if he even so-much-as tried to pull into another one.
Thankfully though, the one that we had stopped at for lunch just outside of Pennsylvania was the last one I saw as my step daddy’s threats of them running dry had actually come true by the time we hit Quaker country.
It was just past 7 p.m. when we’d finally arrived in Mt. Harrison, and I have to say that I couldn’t have been happier to have arrived there. I wasn’t just excited about seeing the new house that we’d be living in (By that point my mama had told me a little about the house she’d grown up in and of the village of Mt. Harrison. From what I had taken from it was that the place was enormous , the house that is. Well, at the very least it was a hell-of-a-lot bigger than the two-bedroom ranch we’d been forced to live in back in Alabama. She had also mentioned to me that it sat atop of six acres of our own land. That the property happened to flank more than thirty square miles of state forest which was part of Letchworth State Park.) but I could have screamed if I had to spend even one more minute folded up in that back seat. My ass had grown thoroughly numb more than seventy miles back, and I had to pee. Besides that, by the end of the trip, my Step Daddy Cade had started smelling like a stale, rank fart wrapped in a rotten skunk anus because he had decided to skip a shower at the prestigious Trailblazer Motor Inn.
As we rolled into the village my mama—who had also started to seem a bit wound up to have arrived—started pointing out a few of the old places that she used to hangout at when she was a kid.
As she babbled on, I looked out my car window as we passed by what looked like a couple of small supermarkets. I also noticed a post office, a quaint little diner, and I even saw some mom-and-pop specialty stores that looked like they would sell souvenirs and other oddities. There was a coin laundry mat and a hardware store. And at the center the village was a square that had a gazebo at its core. I had imagined that was probably where the community would gatherer for holiday events or possibly even a farmer’s market during the summer.
“Look, Cera!” my mama excitedly exclaimed while cocking her head around and swiveling it almost a hundred eighty degrees to look back at me. “That building there is the high school. That’s where you’ll be going to school next month.”
The two-story, brown-brick building had Mount Harrison High School engraved into its cement archway just above the main doorway. As we drove past, I could see that the place had tennis courts, a runner’s track that encircled a football field to the east and beyond that laid a large wooden playground which I had assumed was for an elementary school that might have been the small, adjacent building not much further down the road. That building was also canvassed in the same color and style of brown-brick that adorned the high school.
“Look… They got a football field. So, they must have a team here.” Step Daddy Cade then said to us as he rubbernecked his head out the car window like a moron. “Why don’tcha try out for cheerleadin’ this year?”
Cheerleading? Is he fucking kidding me? I thought, but never answered him.
(Now, I don’t have anything against cheerleaders, bless their hearts.
So, of course, like all good white trash from Alabama does, we had breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a Waffle Castle the first day of our trip. Then after our over-night in Kentucky, we had it again for breakfast and then again for lunch. We would’ve even had it again for dinner that evening, but we ended up eating at a Burger King due to my mama’s refusal to eat at a Waffle Castle again. That, and the fact that she had also threatened to divorce my step daddy if he even so-much-as tried to pull into another one.
Thankfully though, the one that we had stopped at for lunch just outside of Pennsylvania was the last one I saw as my step daddy’s threats of them running dry had actually come true by the time we hit Quaker country.
It was just past 7 p.m. when we’d finally arrived in Mt. Harrison, and I have to say that I couldn’t have been happier to have arrived there. I wasn’t just excited about seeing the new house that we’d be living in (By that point my mama had told me a little about the house she’d grown up in and of the village of Mt. Harrison. From what I had taken from it was that the place was enormous , the house that is. Well, at the very least it was a hell-of-a-lot bigger than the two-bedroom ranch we’d been forced to live in back in Alabama. She had also mentioned to me that it sat atop of six acres of our own land. That the property happened to flank more than thirty square miles of state forest which was part of Letchworth State Park.) but I could have screamed if I had to spend even one more minute folded up in that back seat. My ass had grown thoroughly numb more than seventy miles back, and I had to pee. Besides that, by the end of the trip, my Step Daddy Cade had started smelling like a stale, rank fart wrapped in a rotten skunk anus because he had decided to skip a shower at the prestigious Trailblazer Motor Inn.
As we rolled into the village my mama—who had also started to seem a bit wound up to have arrived—started pointing out a few of the old places that she used to hangout at when she was a kid.
As she babbled on, I looked out my car window as we passed by what looked like a couple of small supermarkets. I also noticed a post office, a quaint little diner, and I even saw some mom-and-pop specialty stores that looked like they would sell souvenirs and other oddities. There was a coin laundry mat and a hardware store. And at the center the village was a square that had a gazebo at its core. I had imagined that was probably where the community would gatherer for holiday events or possibly even a farmer’s market during the summer.
“Look, Cera!” my mama excitedly exclaimed while cocking her head around and swiveling it almost a hundred eighty degrees to look back at me. “That building there is the high school. That’s where you’ll be going to school next month.”
The two-story, brown-brick building had Mount Harrison High School engraved into its cement archway just above the main doorway. As we drove past, I could see that the place had tennis courts, a runner’s track that encircled a football field to the east and beyond that laid a large wooden playground which I had assumed was for an elementary school that might have been the small, adjacent building not much further down the road. That building was also canvassed in the same color and style of brown-brick that adorned the high school.
“Look… They got a football field. So, they must have a team here.” Step Daddy Cade then said to us as he rubbernecked his head out the car window like a moron. “Why don’tcha try out for cheerleadin’ this year?”
Cheerleading? Is he fucking kidding me? I thought, but never answered him.
(Now, I don’t have anything against cheerleaders, bless their hearts.
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