lucy pulled up behind her brother's charger. she advised that i leave the cinnabon in the car so as to not tip her brother off about our plans to get high. "the last thing we need is rick and his loser friends fucking up our night," she said. it seemed that smoking pot and eating cinnabons was some sort of family tradition, so much so that to them, one could not be in possession of a cinnabon without having plans to get high.

i followed her suggestion and grabbed only the coke. lucy declined when i asked her if she wanted me to help her clear out some of the trash from the back seat saying she'd get to it later. she insisted on carrying my backpack in for me (i was her guest she persisted). she had a curious but decided code of manners.

the path leading up to the house was unkempt at best: pitilessly littered with cigarette butts and the water-logged, unclaimed newspapers that the paperboy faithfully chucked onto their lawn each day. the surrounding grass was long and trampled. the feeling of ecstacy that i had enjoyed on our wild ride gave way to the possibitly that lucy and her family might be white trash. i wondered what it was i might be in for.

at the instant that lucy cracked open the front door to gain us entry into the house, an eruption of hysterical, high pitched barking nearly caused me to lose my grip on the giant coke. "that's just freddy," lucy comforted. "he's just excited to see us. he'll quiet down in a sec."

freddy was the fattest beagle i've ever seen. he waddled right up to us excitedly. his untrimmed nails made scratching sounds on the linoleum. lucy knelt down to greet him: she scratched his head lovingly while he licked her cheeks and neck. freddy shook rhythmically as his wagging tail transmitted his elation into the rest of his body. "say hi," lucy said. i squatted down to address freddy. he waddled over to me happily. his dancing eyes showed the gluey start of cataract growth.