DURST: Trailer Courts
Trailer courts. God hates them. I don't know why. Tornadoes. Mudslides. Hurricanes. Earthquakes. Rain of frogs. Really odd smells. Contagious dogs. Satellite remains plunges. Electro magnetic force fields. Alien flight paths. Large groups of sweaty shirtless men with backs so matted with hair you think they're wearing sweaters woven on short circuiting mechanical looms. 60 year old women in leopard print stretch pants lighting 120 mm cigarettes off the end of their dying brethren while screaming epithets at characters in soap operas. You name it. God hits them with it. All over the world. Sure sure, I know what you're saying. "A good strong floor fan or a well placed cat fart could create enough wind to buckle most walls." Yeah, but what's with the precision targeting? My theory is, it's some sort of cruel sport to Him slash Her. Take yesterday. In California, huge mudslides destroyed seven trailers in a mobile home park. Same day in Florida, God so loved His slash Her trailer court He slash She took out an entire one with a single tornado. Which I'm sure was recorded in the Big Book as a strike. "Hey, Allah, check it out. That's a turkey. Beer frame, Yahweh buys." Poor Yahweh always buys. Must live in heaven's trailer court.