There’s something about looking up at the night sky in a small town. Maybe it’s the fact that you can actually see the sky. In the “big city”, you can’t see the stars beyond the tall buildings.
In Rat hell, the tallest building you’ll find is the three story court house where barefoot 16 year olds take their lovers to get hitched before the baby’s born.
The brightest lights you’ll find in Rat hell are the parking lot flood lights over looking the Super Wal-Mart sign, which really only spells Wa*-M*rt because someone hasn’t fixed the sign since it was built in 1996. Or maybe the lights from the football field, where you can see a town really unite.
I’ve seen college graduates return to Rat hell during high school football season. No reason. They just love the town.
I guess there must be something calming about the smell of cow manure and red mud. And it’s the one incense you’ll never find in one of those nature stores in the mall.
You don’t see many. . . rural folks buying into the whole new age spiritual awareness thing. Maybe it’s because no one is marketing anything for them. Or they can find all they need at the arts and crafts fair in the park.
I’ve been to the arts and crafts fair in my time. It’s all a bunch of hand painted signs with cute sayings and phrases like “If the cat ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy” or “I clean my house every other day… this is the other day.” You can hear older women guffawing at these signs and calling for their relatives to come look at it. The arts and crafts fair is a great place to hear the Garth Brooks wannabe or a few Christian tunes.
In Rat hell, it is customary for Christian and country music to be linked together. It’s the greatest bond since biscuits and gravy. Christian metal is just a cover for newly formed rock bands to get gigs in the local junior high. They say “Gotta build the fan base, man.” People in Rat hell only know about Marilyn Manson because he performs “that devil music.” Personally, I think Marilyn Manson with his white hair and man boobs looks like a young Carol Channing. Hello Dolly! And if you ask a native Rat hellion to hum a few bars of an Indigo Girls song, they’ll just spit chaw on your Doc Martens and stare blankly at you.
Rat hell is a great place for family, if you’ve got a family. It’s also a great place if you enjoy ignorance, or innocence if you prefer.
Some people are forced against their will into small towns, complaining and whining every day. You’d think they were brought in by slave ships. Eventually, those of us who aren’t in love with the idea of small town life move on to slightly bigger cities. Everyone else sticks around for the football game and cute signs.
I wonder how one would go about putting the scent of cow manure into incense or creating a red mud candle (preferably in a mayonnaise jar). But you can’t recreate how the night sky looks from the hood of a pickup in a small town.
