Flash in the Pan


A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights

Down Home


by Kay Poiro

I'm good with faces, but I reckon yours is new.
Let me guess. You've had it up to here with Godless liberals, huh? That Communist News Network and their disrespect for hard-won American freedoms, right?

Well, rest easy because there's none of that here.

Welcome to our corner of the world. Open country. God's country. The real America. We're a family-first community, probably not much different than the town where your grandfather was raised. No crack cocaine, no crime and no regional accents. Someplace where you can kick back while the wife fetches you a beer.

But we're no Mayberry. Diversity is a cornerstone of life for us. We're just a little ol'non-denominational, multiracial, apolitical body of red-blooded Americans. We don't discriminate, neither, except for gender or sexual orientation. Especially sexual orientation. By the way, if you're looking for the "fancy boys", they keep to their own locality across the bridge. But color? We couldn't care less about color. See, we remember when life was neutral for everybody: the Oriental, the Negra, the Jew and everybody in between. Well, maybe not entirely the Jew.

No matter your racial affiliation, we're all brothers here. Of course, to preserve our unique heritage, we do have a few rules. First of all, nothing exotic (that goes for our food and our God). You'd be hard-pressed to find something refried, blackened or served on flat bread. No, sir. This here's Wonderbread country.

Wonderbread, mayonnaise and bologna. My bologna has a last name and it ain't G-a-r-z-a, if you catch my drift. We don't do barbeque sauce, neither, although the Henderson's take a little brown sugar in their ketchup every now and then. But what they do behind closed doors is their business. This ain't China, you know.

As for God, well, we're a simple Christian folk. The Worship Regulation Committee don't care if you worship a thin man on a cross or a fat man on a hill, but there's no hairy barefoot paganism around here. The good Lord's been known to smite and we'll be damned if we're smote on account of some heathen in a toga and mohawk.

So, go ahead. Fly the red, white and blue outside your legal property and rest yourself. Hey, how about that Michelob? Marge, go get a Michelob for the newbie! See what I mean? Clean living and beer fetchin' women. Feels like home already, don't it?


Kay Poiro is from Great Mills, MD.

Ninth Flash


Ungodly by Joseph F. Lynch
Got To Go by Lisa Romeo
Lost Star by Arlene L. Mandell
East Coast by Anne Archer
Walking Man by Marion Agnew
Bookworm Family by B.j. Yudelson
My Head Has A Zipper by Greta B. Ward
O Death, Where Is Thy Sting? by Jack Swenson
Turkeys Have Invaded by Richard Comfort


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