Li'l Piece o' Paradise
Howdy! And welcome to my very own Li’l Piece o’ Paradise!
Now don’t go getting’ too jealous as I tell you all about it! After all, I’ve worked hard all my life, and I deserve what I got.
You’re looking at a fine slab-on-grade ranch that totals out at over 2,100 square feet of d’mestic luxury. Better yet, I ain’t got but $54,000 or so left on the mortgage held at the Bucyrus Bank & Trust. Can you believe it?
The vinyl siding is just fourteen years old (and mostly all matches), and the roof’s got another year in it at least. The window A/C that Velma and I got in the master runs just loud enough to drown out the long-haulers downshiftin’ on the interstate, so that’s a win-win, right there. No basement or attached garage to store any of the in-laws’ junk, and, besides, that keeps my Montego out and ready to roll at a moment’s notice.
We’ve kept most of our 2.31 acres pretty much the way the Oneonta Strip Mining Cooperative left it — gawd, how I hate mowin’ a lawn — but I convinced ‘em to leave us some real fine slag to make a nice s-curve access down to Raccoon Bait Road. Velma always says how that snakiness lends a real touch of elegance to comin’ up our driveway. You think you’re just risin’ up some ol’ farm road or somethin’, until — bam! — that beyootiful home just pops up before you. ‘Course I did have to level off a wee stretch and scrape away the tailings so Little Vonda could have a swing set close by the porch.
And just look at the views we’ve got! Why, I can tell at a glance whether you’re gonna face a 65-minute or a 75-minute commute into town — right from my very own kitchen window! And, come Saturday nights, especially in the summertime, we’ve seen some real fantastic traffic wrecks take place within this very interchange. I’m talkin’ sirens wailin’, lights a-flashin’, jaws of life, smoke billowin’, multiple ambulances, fire retardant all over the pavement, flares and cones and troopers as far as the eye can see — the whole shebang! Plus, on moonlit nights, we can all rock on the porch and glance down on the shimmery rainbow colors all the leftover mining chemicals make on the gully waters that run past the yard.
But we didn’t just pick this place for the sheer enjoyment of it. Oh, no! This Eden was a right practical choice as well. Why, my refrigerator is exactly 1.9 miles from Petey’s Package Palace, with his member’s club Thursday discounts on cases of PBR longnecks. Go no more than three-quarter mile in the other direction and you’re at Smoke & Choke, that grand emporium of chaw, hand-rolleds, pipe and pouch. Best yet, Velda’s got only 37 minutes by bus and transfer to reach her job bussin’ tables at Foo Yang’s All-You-Can-Eat Panda Buffet and Wok Wonderland, next to the marine recruiting center out by the abandoned rail depot. (I won’t kid you, though. Part of the appeal of this place was that it’s a good day-and-a-half’s drive from any of Velda’s bitchy battleaxe cousins.)
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