Gug's House

Mom drove me through the rich-people district today until the economy ran out. Just about a block past a huge roundabout with a garden in the middle and two big gates on either side, we had to do a U-turn where the road ended and became a big, lumpy, dirt dent in the earth. A big unkempt field sat behind it full of Florida's finest yellow and brown plants that grow when nobody but the sun pays attention. Eventually they would probably cover a pair of tire tracks there that led into the distance. Presumably, whoever started building the last fancy housing development there between the racquet club and the big, dry field (but had to stop after they made the eight-foot high walls because there was no reason to build the big houses that would go inside) is sitting there at the end of those tire tracks in that overgrown field in the driver's seat of the car where they shot themself.

Labels: themself