Myrtle Fenwick had lived on his Father's farm his entire life. When the old man croaked and his young wife had cleaned out most of the money, Myrtle was the inheritor of the farm, all the hogs, the old D10 pickup and all the equipment. The farm wasn't anything to write home about. Little over ten acres and almost exclusively a hog farm, there was a horse and a donkey, a couple chickens and some corn and beans in the back forty. The hogs were beasts. They were loud, dirty and talked to him in a terrifying voice inside his head. "Kill that woman Myrtle!! Then bring her to us so we can feast!!" "Don't worry Myrtle, the horned God rules over all!! He wants you to continue your work. He's very pleased, however....WE....WANT....MORE....FLESH" Sometime in late July 1941, a man and woman pulled onto Myrtles farm. This was unexpected, however it was pleasantly unexpected. The hogs had been screaming in his head for days. Screaming so loud that he couldn't hear his own thoughts. So loud and constant, that he hadn't slept in weeks. The only thing that would shut those goddamn hogs up is the flesh and pain they ingest and distribute. He had to feed them and this couple would do nicely. When they got out of their old Ford pickup, the first thing they noticed was the smell. The sweet rotten smell of death. As much as they tried to ignore it, it was overwhelming. Honestly, overwhelming is an understatement. It was as if there was death all around them. Myrtle came out of the farmhouse when they got out of their car. The woman, tall, dark and quite beautiful caught Myrtles attention right away. "Now that is one handsome woman!", Myrtle thought to himself. "Maybe I can play with her before I feed her to the hogs? Maybe they would let me?" The man got out of the truck and looked around in disgust. The smell was absolutely horrible, they just needed some water for themselves and the truck and they would be back on the road in no time. Deal with the smell because he has no choice, get the water and get the fuck out of here, he thought to himself.

***When I was a young man, about twenty-one or twenty-two, I lived in Green Springs, Ohio. I lived with my highschool sweetheart, and we were pretty happy. Green Springs is a cool little town to lay low. If you don't do anything too stupid, the law will leave you alone and if you mind your own business, everyone else will mind theirs. I sold a lot of grass at that time in my life, and worked at the drive thru right next to my apartment. I made decent money and was not on light supply of new customers and friends. When I wasn't working, I would read or play music. At that point in my life I was practicing music for about six hours a day. I was obsessed with writers like Selby Jr, Jim Carrol, William S Burrows and Irvine Welsh. I glorified and worshipped their madness and their addictions. Also at this time in my life I was really starting to nurture my own opiate addiction. And when I say nurture, that is exactly what I mean. I had it in my mind that the only way to create great art was to suffer tremendous pain, and who better to inflect pain on me, than myself? What kind of fucked up mentality is that? Lol. Lol. Lol. So, anyway, I had met a customer named Carrol. He drove a UPS truck and made good money. He was also a heroin addict and on methadone to try and kick the dog food. Carrol was a cool guy ,real chill and we got along great. I also purchased my first ever wafer of methadone. And was higher than giraffe pussy, as the kids say. Carrol had told me alot of stories. Some funny, some sad and one has stuck with me for over twenty years. It is a tragedy, and it unfolded as such.*** He told me: "You know Joey, Fremont, during the crack epidemic was absolute madness. I mean, it was unbelievable. People were dying left and right. People were losing their jobs, their homes, families, their fucking fortunes man!! I heard about a guy in Fremont that spent seventy-five thousand in ONE FUCKING NIGHT. One night Joey, one fucking night, one night!! Fuck man!!! Imagine that...blows my mind.