It was pretty easy to love her then. It was still fun to get drunk. It was still fun to get high. She didn't bitch that often and I could hit it when I wanted. It was during this time that the first raid occurred.
When she started cheating on her husband with me [and under no circumstance are you to believe I was the first man, nor the only gender] we were both lost and looking for a way to survive. She needed less of a threatening influence in her life and I needed more of one. We'd strike out after work, looking for a bar to drink in, a restaurant to eat in and a place to fuck. Simple as that. It was more excitement than I had ever had and it was less of a stressful life for her. See, her husband was a real piece, may he rest in peace. But his stories will be told in latter blogs. This one is about the tulips.
I guess the reason we liked that part of town was due in part to so few cars traveled by at two in the morning. And, it was the first place I fucked her on a bulldozer. Every time we'd drive by, I would open my mouth to say, "you remember that night...?" but she would beat me to the punch, and as I was sucking air, before I could get the words out, she would simply say, "Yes, Kirk, I remember." So one spring night we were coming home from a binge that included Amanda's Riverboat Resturant, The Deerhead, and The Executive Inn. We were under the Lloyd Expressway, I sucked air, she said her script, and that was when I notice the tulips.
Southern Indiana is not the most beautiful place in the world, and, Evansville is not the most horticulturally progressive. But for some reason, the city fathers saw fit to plant tulips in the autumn at the base of the expressway exits. This lead to massive tulip beds that bloomed in the spring. On that morning of noting the tulips and having already had a day full of work, a belly full of Jack and burgers and sex on top of the city's university's sign, what the hell else was there to do, but steal tulips?
The plan was simple, she would drive [she always drove when we were drunk/high. Not that she was a better driver but she always got out of being arrested when she was pulled over---again, another blog], I would hop out at the light, she would do a loop back onto then off of the express way. I would gather the floral loot. We'd load the car. Sounds simple. But, incase you have forgotten.... we were both in a state of drunkenness. She in her state, took the wrong exit, leaving me to be found later covered in mud and pastel petals. I in my state, pulled up on the stems instead of trying to break them off, leaving me to be found later covered in mud and pastel petals.
photo by: free use rights off the internet
By the time she did find the right exit, e.g. the one scarred with mud-hole filled flower beds, I had passed out in the grass. Knowing I was there, somewhere, she blew the horn. Later, she would recount the story saying she found me when I "prairie dogged up from my tuliped-stealth position." I threw the flowers into the back seat of the car [yes, I was the one who cleaned the backseat while suffering the hangover]. The next morning the kids woke up to find tulips cut and in vases over the mantel, in the kitchen, in the dinning room and in our bedroom. The kids never asked about the flowers. I guess they either didn't care, or they knew stolen tulips weren't our worst problem.
When she started cheating on her husband with me [and under no circumstance are you to believe I was the first man, nor the only gender] we were both lost and looking for a way to survive. She needed less of a threatening influence in her life and I needed more of one. We'd strike out after work, looking for a bar to drink in, a restaurant to eat in and a place to fuck. Simple as that. It was more excitement than I had ever had and it was less of a stressful life for her. See, her husband was a real piece, may he rest in peace. But his stories will be told in latter blogs. This one is about the tulips.
I guess the reason we liked that part of town was due in part to so few cars traveled by at two in the morning. And, it was the first place I fucked her on a bulldozer. Every time we'd drive by, I would open my mouth to say, "you remember that night...?" but she would beat me to the punch, and as I was sucking air, before I could get the words out, she would simply say, "Yes, Kirk, I remember." So one spring night we were coming home from a binge that included Amanda's Riverboat Resturant, The Deerhead, and The Executive Inn. We were under the Lloyd Expressway, I sucked air, she said her script, and that was when I notice the tulips.
Southern Indiana is not the most beautiful place in the world, and, Evansville is not the most horticulturally progressive. But for some reason, the city fathers saw fit to plant tulips in the autumn at the base of the expressway exits. This lead to massive tulip beds that bloomed in the spring. On that morning of noting the tulips and having already had a day full of work, a belly full of Jack and burgers and sex on top of the city's university's sign, what the hell else was there to do, but steal tulips?
The plan was simple, she would drive [she always drove when we were drunk/high. Not that she was a better driver but she always got out of being arrested when she was pulled over---again, another blog], I would hop out at the light, she would do a loop back onto then off of the express way. I would gather the floral loot. We'd load the car. Sounds simple. But, incase you have forgotten.... we were both in a state of drunkenness. She in her state, took the wrong exit, leaving me to be found later covered in mud and pastel petals. I in my state, pulled up on the stems instead of trying to break them off, leaving me to be found later covered in mud and pastel petals.
photo by: free use rights off the internet
By the time she did find the right exit, e.g. the one scarred with mud-hole filled flower beds, I had passed out in the grass. Knowing I was there, somewhere, she blew the horn. Later, she would recount the story saying she found me when I "prairie dogged up from my tuliped-stealth position." I threw the flowers into the back seat of the car [yes, I was the one who cleaned the backseat while suffering the hangover]. The next morning the kids woke up to find tulips cut and in vases over the mantel, in the kitchen, in the dinning room and in our bedroom. The kids never asked about the flowers. I guess they either didn't care, or they knew stolen tulips weren't our worst problem.
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