"Picture Worth 500 Words"

image Aimee Bingham

Her face hardened as she watched the bats.  Fucking idiots, she thought.   She resented them more than they knew.  Grandfather George and Grandmother Mira.  She'd been with them on these stupid summer RV trips since she got busted with a bag of weed and a bottle of Jack when she was fourteen.  Her Mother worked in a resort restaurant during the summer, like eighty hours a week.  And her Dad, well he was typical.

Fuck, she thought as the stupid bats flapped their wings around the humming bird feeder. George and Mira insisted on hanging it up at every stop.  She heard her Grandmother's sing song voice as she hung the damned thing.  Isn't this cozy?

Yes, she thought, isn't it?

She pulled her backpack close to her chest, pulled out the brick she saved for nearly all winter at the Quick Stop gas station.  She would make it. She would make it.  And if she didn't?  Well, she'd figure something out.  No fucking way she was dealing with withdraws and George and Mira. Fuck no.   One line tonight, that's it.

She quickly made four huge lines, snorted them, and began to drool and nod watching the fucking bats fly around the hummingbird feeder.

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