D'Brickashaw Ferguson (The Big Nothing Part 22)

''They threaded the cap with two notches'' said The Jaffer, looking down at half the Screwdriver (held inside of an antique Thermos) he had dumped upon the Marion McDonalds parking lot; it sizzled in the summer heat. 

The drive thru was packed but no one happened to look at our predicament. 

Granted, it was only made with Hawkeye Vodka, the worst and cheapest you can get, but that still didn't change The Jaffer's mind about swilling it, and complaining that he had swilled it, for the rest of the day.

Hawkeye Vodka has been described as ''an Iowan tradition'' and ''a staple of the University of Iowa experience'' but everyone else knows it as a step up from rubbing alcohol. 

Actually, it's not even made in Iowa but St Louis, regardless, it's still found in every booze station in eastern Iowa.

The comparison, in both quality and taste, is found in the equally cheap Black Velvet whiskey which is the leading cause of blindness, DUI's, and car crashes in Iowa.

When Mississippi moonshiners had dumped a fouled batch into the mighty river, many moons ago, it turned the entire thing black and caused it to flow backwards until it dumped into the Cedar River where it had poisoned the entire state with dysentery and blindness. 

Somehow, and by some demented inclination, a St Louie man decided to bottle some of it and recreate the demonic creation until it was perfected into what it is now.

Anyway, The Jaffer took the thermos, filled the cap, washed it down, and gave it back to me. 

Not much was left so I just closed my eyes and hoped for the best. It has a gnarly bite, that was concealed by the OJ Simpson, and I walked away with only goosebumps.

We were looking for the town of Motor; all I knew was that it was up north. 

St Nick was driving and the 2 hour trek felt like 2 centuries; maybe it was the work of the Hawkcrap or The Jaffer's impatience. 

We were almost there when The Jaffer kept going on about this park. At first, I really didn't pay attention as he had mentioned abandoning the entire thing and going camping for the 3rd time at this point but I turned around when I heard that the park had ''an old Mill and a bridge''. That was it. 

When I told him that, he said, ''Well, that was what I was trying to tell you this entire time''.

All around us were rocky hills and farming valley; I had spotted a sign that pointed out that it was 2 miles to the left, we turned, and went down gravel hills that dipped around farms and country intersections. 

We finally hit the state preserve that surrounds the remains of the town after a few minutes. It dipped low after the hills until we passed the small bridge that marks the town. Two javes clad in full motorcycle gear eyed us like we were stupid as we drove across. 

The mill towered over the other side of the bridge and the few buildings left.

We turned left and found a clearing next to the edge of the river. Behind us, two cars full of grumpsters drove past waving and The Jaffer hid behind a building to piss.

The river beside us was massive; it went down at least 30 or more feet and was nestled between two huge walls of rock and curved around out of view. 

I turned and saw The Jaffer arising from the little smokehouse he had whizzed on. He told me that the buildings here all used to be unlocked to wander around in and tours used to be given to explain it's history. 

They all were locked; a two story Inn, cooperage, the smokehouse, a stable, the mill, and the bridge were all that was left of Motor.

We started towards the Inn behind the car; it was locked. 

St Nick, and his two cousins that he had brought, peered into all the windows and took note that it had looked trashed inside. 

There was a small hill behind the Inn and I walked right up it to whizz behind the Inn. The backdoor had been sealed closed and St Nick only saw a toilet inside the windows.

We walked to the mill, it was also locked, and the sides of the door frame had been covered in name carvings, but the cooperage was the only one that wasn't. I just turned the knob and walked right in. It was a large room, museum signs littered the stone floor, and a large fireplace was it.

The Jaffer looked up at the ceiling and said that the last time that he had been here, the ceiling hadn't been there, and you could see straight up. I walked up to the fireplace and found more names carved into the rock. It was like a rite of passage. Someone had carved ''Nirvana'' in the middle of it.

We walked out and that had looked about it. The road curved in two directions; somewhere to the left were the road got smaller and steeper and the right led to an old campsite. We walked up the right road a little and found a little hiking path that led us in a complete circle. 

Back on the main road, I looked off the bridge and saw a group of kayaks coming slowly up the river. 

On our right was the mill, it stood over the river that it once had power over but now it was decayed and scribbled over by tourists. It's turbine sat besides it rusting into the ground. The Jaffer and I admired the mill for a minute and got into the car to leave.

The sun bled in between the hills and hid among the rocky cliffs that surrounded us. 

I looked around the endless expanse and sighed. 

I was growing tired of the coming and going. It was all becoming just headaches and arguments.

The Jaffer was getting itchy. He, along with St Nick's cousins, eyed me at the gas station on the way back.

It was in the town of Strawberry Point (known for a huge plastic strawberry and a hotel where you jump out the windows for fun). Everyone just wanted to go home. I was just tired of hauling the dead horse over my shoulder.

We stopped to get gas in the middle of town. It was dark now but it was a summer night. People wandered around the place, a grumpster with a hat made of PBR cans sewed together and a Hawaiian shirt head banged to no music, kids pulled up in bikes, and a truck load of good ol boys bought cases of beer and admired their dirt bikes. 

Everyone stood around and talked in their own isolated conversations. The air was warm and the kids could bike out all night.

I turned and walked into the gas station, where we had just eaten, it was a little hole in the wall place and it also had a gun rack and a counter filled with handguns and revolvers. The ammo was counter priced only and the walls were covered in fishing gear.

The kid working the counter was bored and told me that the nozzle was sometimes stuck. I went outside to make sure then looked to the group. They looked tired and ready to leave. 

St Nick stood there ready at the helm. The Jaffer spoke for them as he went on and on about leaving. I didn't care anymore.

The good ol boys had a few beers outside their trucks before getting in and jetting off with the mud stained bikes, the grampie roared off into the night howling and avoiding the attention of the cop who was just up the street, and the kids biked off into a random neighborhood. I could hear them talking amongst themselves as they biked away.

I sighed and got back in.

On the edge of town and the highway, St Nick couldn't just pass by this burned out motel we had passed before. 

He, like I, just knew these things and veered off into the little lot. 

We got out and started wandering inside the hollowed out building. It looked tore up from fire and storm. The walls were down to the frames, some didn't exist, and the roof was completely gone. 

Even then, we could tell that it was a roach hotel from the size and to what The Jaffer had apparently remembered about it. He'd mutter out some type of fever dream like recollection and walk around repeating himself.

I looked out of the crumpled building and looked off into the empty road. 

There was nothing else but to heed the call to it. 

I walked out of the bombed out structure and got back into the car to drift back home.

Plastic Town (The Big Nothing Part 21)

 I stared down at the light green carpet, the funeral usher pushed back his thick  glasses back to his face as he welcomed me and walked me back to a table in another room.  All the lights were dim, the bar was empty, and I slowly walked behind the usher.

I was greeted by the stares of angry stiffs sitting at their according tables. Fancy tablecloth; the works.

 The dim lights made their chandeliers, in which they illuminated, shimmered, and sparkled, ominously. The dim lighting was perfect for this dreary place. 

Each stiff looked across each other, at their tables, with no emotion but with a deep regret that was seared into their eyeballs. These people had accepted their individual lot in life but they didn't have to be happy about it.

This place sucked the life energy out of you and recycled it back into waiters and waitresses that smile forcefully because they know that the funeral ushers are over their shoulders; watching without mercy in their hearts.

They slop crappy rich people food in front of you; just on glass dishes and cloth wrapped cutlery. The stiffs sit and argue with the waitresses about how many ways can their slop be served to them. They've been dead longer than they've known how to consume their portion in life.

The food is plastic, the funeral ushers are in the back wrapping bodies together in sheets of tin foil before they bake them at 450 degrees for ripe consumption. 

I had to get out. 

I couldn't stand it. 

The stiffs faded in between the walls; silently watching and judging with stone hearts. 

The smell of grease and dirty tablecloth hung in the air like cigar smoke.

The funeral usher fiddles with his thumbs and a glass of bourbon before waving goodbye. His words were like scribbly post it notes on a fridge.

When I walked back into the evening light outside, it blinded me, the tomb of the funeral home glowed in the sunlight because of how darkly painted it was.

Part Two:

Driving out on the outskirts of Marion, I was so tired that I almost fell asleep in the back seat, my eyes flickered between the cookie cutter homes. 

This was it. 

Robins, Iowa.

This was another meaningless town. Rich kid territory. 

Here, the streets are paved with the brains of drunkard housewives.

Each person here lives invisibly, neighbors don't exist, and if they do; they're driving minivans and diesel pickup trucks. Swaddles of screaming infants are put on leather leashes and led up and down the streets.

They used to shoot off fireworks in the little town park, I remember walking through crowds of people, while crappy cover bands blasted away with songs that you were pained to remember; fireworks over the stage. Dogs on leather leashes. That changed. You only see the fireworks in the distance now.

I got back into the basement. 

I'm only staying here for a short amount of time but even then; it becomes insufferable.

The windows are boarded up with cardboard and the walls are a sickly white.

It's cold. 

I can't stand it. 

It reeks of lifelessness.

I waited until the night; waiting as the daylight trickled beneath the cracks of the space that the cardboard left. 

I walked out the back, the only lights being from the streetlights and cars slowly moving up the street every five minutes. 

I walked onto the main stretch of town. The only thing on it are a bar and gas station.

I walked down the path of street lights before deciding to turn right. 

While I passed a street corner, I noticed that there was a crowd of children huddled in a backyard; watching a movie that was being projected onto the back of the house. They even had a popcorn machine.

I stopped and thought about blending in with the crowd of faceless children but I didn't. 

Cars would pass along the street corner; sending their spotlight all across the crowd. They were still faceless. All nameless and would turn back into shadowy figures as soon as the light was gone.

I continued down the way, I walked down the street after street of cookie cutter nothingness; I wondered if people actually lived in those things. 

It was taking more and more of the farmland.

I used to be able to walk out on the driveway and still see corn but it's only roofs now.

Development and development being built to slowly poison and kill off the land. I could see the flood waters of yesteryear coming and washing it all away in a murderous silence.

I blinked and finally found myself surrounded by trees. I was on a small road covered on both sides by big hills overgrown with weeds.

The hills were starting to slow and I saw a car slowly pulled next to me. ''Great'', I thought. I was going to either get arrested or kidnapped and being forced to be a drug mule for a preppy college kid party. 

The car window slowly came down and revealed the frightened face of a young couple. They were lost and needed directions so I pointed to the best direction and I was off in the dark again.

The hills came down and I saw the silhouettes of houses again. I looked on my left and saw the inside of a large house. 

The basement lights were on and revealed a huge basement furnished with carpet and expensive furniture. I saw that it was filled with dudes with solo cups in their hands; they were all around this table that had someone laying on top of it. I couldn't figure it out though I was 20 or 30 feet away. I could of swore they all saw me and they proceeded to close the blinds. 

Anything could happen.

I saw that there was a little city park up ahead. 

The road went on forever; only leading to more hills and rich crazies with a lust for kidnapping so I huddled into the park.

It was surrounded on all sides by cookie cutters. 

Everything was so clean and manicured; it all felt so plastic. 

I saw two yuppie kids coming out of the darkness on scooters, I hid in the playground, and watched them trade each other Yu Gi Oh cards.

This places was driving me insane. 

I saw the sky was lit brightly with the moon, so brightly, that I could see the passing clouds moving in the night.

It was only a matter of time until this place would consume me.

Origins of Dawn (The Big Nothing Part 20)

''It's almost too hot'' says Nick.

In the backroom, towards the end of the hallway, the toilet overflows, there's Fruit Loops on the floor, bare mattresses in every room; the yellowed, old, air conditioner hums and clicks downstairs.

Inside and outside, the air is thick; the backyard overflows with green.

A fan is wedged inside the windowsill in Nick's bedroom. 

A naked baby sleeps on the couch downstairs. 

The sink in the kitchen is overfilled with pans coated in unidentifiable organisms.

Four different empty boxes of pizza lay on top of a trash can overfilled with waste and the smell of garlic.

A five foot portrait of Squidward Tentacles (in prose) overlooks Nick's room.

Puddles of piss by the toilet and on the carpet of a nearby closet. 

The cancer is emanating from the walls as it breathes in rats, trash pandas, and nicotine stains then the sound of screaming infants starts to kick in.

Downstairs is an old basement with dogs on drugs, licking the walls. 

A fat child resembling the Michelin Man sits in a comforter like an overweight father who wears wife beaters and beer on his chest.

Nick's room reeks of sickness and sweat; the heat makes the air taste like it. 

I feel like a homeless man on a drinking binge. The fan does little to make the air thin; a liter of sweat coats my forehead.

Eight people pile in a room; bunk beds with bare mattresses and five people puffing on cigarettes in a small laundry room. Few wear a shirt, the infants continue to howl, and there's no electricity in the living room. 

The fan creeks and hums loudly; the living room floor is littered with pieces of leather from a chair. 

Five adolescents left to find narcotics.

Part Two: 

The Zesticide

''West Virginueir..smoke my meth...'' sang Ryan and I as we drove off on the road.

''You remember Fight Club'' I asked Ryan. ''No'' said Ryan sarcastically. ''Whatever, you remember when...I never saw it'' said Ryan. The sound of music blasting and gravel banging all over the car was incessant. ''Ah crap, I hope this isn't it...son of a jave'' I said.

The house was there all right but the property didn't look totally abandoned. 

There were newer farm machines in the nearby barns and chows were wandering behind it. We drove down the road to see if there was anything else but that was the house that I had located online. The lawn looked freshly mowed.

It was a perfect day for travel. The sun glowed hot on us and the land was bright.

Ryan tried keeping his mouth shut because the air conditioner was blasting out cow shaz and breathing in cancer. 

''Teletubbies is f***** scary'' Ryan said. ''You ever seen those videos where they have the Teletubbies in black and white? They look like javing axe murderers.'' I replied. The weird music pumping out of his car speakers made the ride eerie.

The wide and empty highway turned into the woods as we drove through some back roads. There was a deep creek running through the ground to our right. I saw an abandoned house completely slanting on one side and another with junk all over the lawn. 

We slowly surveyed it and decided to turn back and go inside one of them. We drove down a little ways and saw that the wooded area turned into a huge clearing with large, newly built, homes scattered around. We stopped at a street and I turned and saw the town sign on someone's lawn scrawled across a rusty truck; ''Hauntown'' it said.

We turned around to the abandoned houses and parked next to the one with all the crap on the lawn. It was a little too close to the clearing, as we saw a house with people walking around it, but I wanted to see if I could get into one of these. 

I saw an old decaying barn and other small dilapidated buildings going up a hill behind the house where we parked by. I walked alongside the property, the one that was slanted had a fence around it, but the fence ended besides and behind the one where we parked by. It was perfect.

There was a small road that led to a small gate that led up the hill besides the house and I walked back to tell Ryan to move his car. I walked back into the backyard and into the backdoor.

 

There were wooden planks laid up besides each other in piles in another room but the main part of the house was open. It had looked like an abandoned house project; we assumed that it had been so for maybe 20 years.

The floor felt stable enough to walk on and I walked straight to the living room which was empty. The whole house was completely empty. 

The deck in front of the front door was slowly rotting away and I walked into a small bathroom and only found insulation all over the floor.

While I was coming out of the bathroom, Ryan pointed out some scribbling on the wall; ''Guys we're being haunted. Help us'' said Ryan as he read it out ''Ur Next''. He said that he saw that the entire second floor was only catwalks for whoever was last working on it. 

I found a narrow staircase, with a door to a dirt basement under it, and slowly walked up the stairs. He was right. I spotted a small hallway in front of me, blue tarp covering the doorway, and thought that it wasn't probably stable enough.

Part Three: 

The Bare Cheeked Riders

The air was warm and the sun was hot on our bodies. We drove lazily up and down the highway, we passed farms, towns, and fields of endless grain. The roads would wind and rise around the lonely road. 

We passed a rural four way intersection, there was a guy sitting on the flatbed of his truck, nursing a few beers, and watching cars drive down the hills. He nodded at the tractor in front of us and took another sip of his beer. 

It was like a summer day. The towns we would pass, strangely, would have not a soul out in the streets or on their lawns. The work day seemed to make the little towns ghost towns as they probably had to travel a couple of miles for work.

The guitar of Willie Nelson purred softly in the car and I yawned softly as I watched these places before my eyes disappear out of the passenger window.

I saw streams of bikers all over the highway. They made their leather look small as their large bodies stretched the clothing so much that it stuck on their bodies while others waved loose in the waves of air. 

Ryan switched the music to The Beatles so he wouldn't fall asleep and we took to mockery; '' my friend works for the national health, mr methead, you'll pay money just to see yourself with mr methead..mr methead, he sells whatever he can...well, well, he'll see your veins are taunt, well, well, well, I see the plunger coming down''.

It was an unbelievable relief when I saw it on the lonely road. Most of the day had been quick disappointments and long periods of having our backs stick to the seats. 

The house was in the middle of a huge cornfield, solitary, and only a little dirt road leading up to it. It stood out like an island in the sea of nothing. In the distance, I could see farming vehicles doing their normal job in the field. It was like it's own little oasis.

Ryan pulled right up to it, just before the overgrown lawn, and looked at me. I admired his audacity and got out. 

The property had a large, brick, barn to our right and a pile of rubble just a few feet in front of it. In front of us was the house; surrounded by large trees. 

There was still a powerline that was connected to the house though it had long been shut off. The lawn was clean except for normal tree foliage and whatever had fallen off the house. There was a large deck that had collapsed in front of the house. There were no doors and even a sewer or a well was built into the foundation. 

I was hesitant to go inside since the place had looked like the oldest house I had seen. I walked to the right and wanted to loop back around before figuring if it was safe to go inside.

I could see from the outside that it wasn't. A huge tree had collapsed in the backyard and glass was all over the ground. I peered inside, through the windows, and saw that the place was stripped. Ryan figured that it had to be maybe 70 years old. 

The floors looked long rotted, the paint on the walls had been curled and the whole house had the color melted off of it. I saw inside the small living room, which was covered in pieces of the ceiling and a rotary phone still on the wall, there was a bathroom with the toilet smashed out of its place. There were holes in the walls that revealed wood and brick foundations. It looked so strange. There were few doors inside and the whole place was entirely open.

''This is where you get Hepatitis G'' said Ryan as he watched me walk all over the broken glass of the windows. I saw that there were holes in the concrete on the ground and saw that some parts of the basement windows were just holes. 

Ryan pointed out that the main staircase basically floated in the air as the floor beneath it was hollowed out. We wouldn't have been able to even get past the front door. 

We walked towards the barn and there was nothing but old tires inside. I looked at the rubble not too far away from it and assumed that it had either been another barn or smaller house. 

We slowly drove backwards, the house getting smaller and smaller, and we drove off into the country road.

It simmered in the sun and it always seemed all so distant than before.

Part Four: 

It's Almost Too Hot

The road was quiet, not so the driver, the night was long and mysterious.

Downtown was eerie. Only the veterans bar was open.

We couldn't shake off a car filled with ''good ole boys'' until we drove straight out of town. Redneck country. Dimly lit houses, metal farm fences, and two headlights right from behind.

We turned back, shaking the kids, and with the dark country road all around; the driver was spooked. 

The car was falling apart, sounding more like the chopping of a mower, and the moonshine had taken a toll.

Almost outside of town now, I remembered the gravel road leading out of the back of the local high school to where a graveyard lies and where I thought the schoolhouse was.

Stomping inside the graveyard, a small site built upon a hill, I took a flashlight and scoured through the graves to find my grandmother's grave and a better site to see where the school was.

You could see the edge of the sky around the edges of the trees that surrounded the graveyard; the cities water tower loomed over the tree line like I remembered years ago.

Directly outside the graveyard was the back of the high school. I remembered decrepit greenhouses, an overgrown field, and the old elementary school in the distance like something far off as the funeral procession ahead of me; the quiet burial and the strange feeling in the air.

When I looked out at that field now, the school was gone, the greenhouses were limited to one but completely remodeled and the land where the old school lied on; a new football field.

The lights around the box office were still on, mosquitos buzzed around the source of light, and the nearby highway quietly dissipated by each car that passed by.

Kurtsville (The Big Nothing Part 19)

''Some people claim that there's some paint thinner in my veins....'' The Jaffer sang to the tune of Margaritaville as we raced down the highway. 

We've already been on the road for a few hours now. The first couple places we had been searching for was either blocked off by trespassing signs or non existent. The Jaffer was huffing a bag of cigs he got for 10 bucks but steady on the wheel. 

The day was a colder one out of the beginning of Spring but the sun was still out and we were ready for a day's worth of travel.

Almost by accident, we were going past a windy road that led out to the highway when I saw some pillars of metal that were built into the large hills of rock on our right.

There was a little place to park and we stopped to see what they were. It was cold when I got out of the car, I fetched a sweater out the back, and we walked up to the pillars. 

They were lime kilns, long abandoned, and now a fixture on the side of the road. The large furnace doors were now bricked up and were left with only with the metal lids to recognize what they were. There was a stone stairway built alongside the pillars that led to the top of them.

Once we got up the steps, I recognized the small building on top of the hill from a picture on the internet. It was a building that served as a warehouse for the lime as rocks were poured, from a wooden cart track, by the side of the top of the kilns to be turned into limestone. The warehouse was all shacked out, covered in trespassing signs, and that was all that was left of an entire town that was built around the kilns called Hurstville.

You could see that all around it was private property, from all the crap laying around, and there were more huge hills off in the distance. It looked spooky even in the daylight.

We got back on the highway, and crossed the street into gravel; ''ooooh myy..ooh HOO myy. That could of been bad'' said The Jaffer in his low, nasally, stoner voice as we hit rock. He was going 30 on that crap and I could feel us being dragged into different directions as The Jaffer kept on course. We went up huge hills into the nothingness; just gravel and obscure 50s music blasting.

Once, we got deeper and deeper into the gravel road, I had a feeling that this place wouldn't be out here.

Part Two: The Booze House

''Okay. I'm in a full abandoned house now..umm..quite terrifying, The Jaffer won't come out, so I'm stuck in'' I said as I walked into a trashed house along side of the highway. I could see The Jaffer shaking his head as he sat in the parked car from the busted out windows of the house. 

I came in from the back door as I walked from the small driveway. There was another house on the property but The Jaffer's refusal made me felt pressured to move quickly.

The overgrown lawn was covered in junk, the other house looked worse, even had a car with a smashed window besides it. I moved slowly to the back, not wanting to step on anything that would slice through my shoes, until I saw the back door. 

I could see the rest of the small lawn, an empty pole that was for drying laundry, and the highway just 20 feet away. I walked right up to the open back door and walked in. 

The house was really trashed. It was a small, single floor, garage combination house. It had looked abandoned for at least 10 years.

On my immediate left, was a red tablecloth table covered in dust and an old stove beside it. The floor was covered in cardboard and empty booze bottles. 

I looked to my right and saw the kitchen and that was even worse. It was covered in pink cartons of eggs and other assorted trash. I could see that there was a bathroom by the stove, which was covered in grease and dust, that it was inaccessible from all the trash on the ground.

I saw that there was a small living room and hallway that lead to multiple rooms. I felt the dread of junkies flying out of the empty rooms with razor sharp teeth and heroin needles so I grabbed a large, empty, wine bottle off of the floor and slowly made my way down the hallway. It was completely silent except for the sounds of birds chirping in the middle of the day.

The broad daylight lit the house up and I saw that they were all empty. Each footstep made clinking noises from all the booze bottles on the ground. I saw that all of the rooms were empty.

The spring breeze poured through the shattered windows of the trashed rooms. I noticed one at the end of the hallway must have belonged to a child since the cheap, wooden door was covered in stickers. All that was inside was a stack of mattresses. I exhaled and walked back into the living room.

The living room had dirty couches flipped over each other and a gallon bottle of Crown Royal was sitting on an empty TV stand. I peered out out of the front door, covered in branches, and saw that cars kept slowly passing The Jaffer's car and zooming off into the distance. I got nervous but was still determined so I turned and saw that there was a door leading to the small garage and opened it.

The garage looked like it had been a workshop, telling from the large table in the back, but now was a huge trash pile covered in bed frames, mattresses, boxes of empty booze bottles, an old computer, and various appliances stacked next to each other in a heap. 

The garage door was jammed slightly open by decay and a red jacket hung on the wall by the door I came in. I saw through the door of the garage, blocked by junk, that The Jaffer was waving to get my attention. I didn't want to leave but I knew I could always come back. I ran across the lawn and into the car where The Jaffer quickly backed up and got back onto the highway.

I was confused and also annoyed so I asked what his deal was. He told me that, when I was in the garage, a car off the highway came down the road even slower than the others and parked down the road until I came out and got into the car.

After that we drove further and further East until we saw the Mississippi and The Wapsipinicon overflowing over the rural land. 

We were on the main road, going south, so we were safe but on each side of the road; the water was slowly filling up the land and pouring out onto the roads. 

It made it look almost like marshes in Florida. 

The daylight made the trees fluorescent green and made the road glow with a bright reflection that bit into your eyes. It was like we were driving off of an island and back into Iowa.

By the time, we felt like we were back in Iowa, we had spent most of the day looking and finding nothing. The land had opened and devoured these places that I was dead set on finding. I only saw steep canyons of meth country and chows wandering around huge acres of land.

We were on our way back when we decided to stop in the last town we went through to find somewhere to eat. 

It was a larger rural town but still small and yet felt different. We were cruising slowly down the small downtown until I spotted a small, hole in the wall, type bar and we sat inside to enjoy cheap hambugs and garbage service.

''Their pizza doesn't look bad'' said The Jaffer. ''I can't stand bizza'' I replied with a chuckle. ''Ah!'' said The Jaffer in surprise; ''It's homemade bizza''. ''That's the worst in my opinion'' I said.

The Jaffer sat disgusted after he had tried his glass of pop to find it tasteless so I took the straw and filled it with ketchup until it looked like a heroin needle. It was almost 20 minutes until the waitress handed me my bill and was even longer after that to return. 

I saw in front of me that a small table of local kids were getting their food a lot faster and I sat annoyed. The Jaffer went outside for a cig and came back saying ''Didn't know that you could sit in a bar and gamble with cards''. I laughed and said ''You probably can't. It's not like that matters out here. For all we know, some dude could get shot and run out of the place like it was an old saloon''.

I finally got up to locate the waitress and found her talking up a storm at the bar. As she took my bill, and was processing it, I noticed that the bar was filled with strange drunken men. They eyed me because they knew that I wasn't from around here. 

I had a feeling that was the reason for the worthless service. I grabbed my change and walked out, passing the poker game going on, I saw that it was a bunch of overworked grampies with their wills on the betting table and enough booze in their system to go to each other's houses and fist fight out on the front lawn.