Preface

 

I'm telling you this story on account of it being personal, on account of us spending this morning at the cemetery, and on account of there ain't no-one else that wants to tell it. So if you care to hear it, looks like you and me's stuck with each other.

I don't say I can tell it as good as it should be told, and I ain't gonna win no No Bell prize, less they got a special section for books that don't got no grammar in them. But it's important it gets told. That's my opinion anyway.

I guess it all started in 1970, before I was born. There's folks wish I wasn't born at all, but it's too late now and I don't want to get on to that.

If you never heard of Indiana, then you sure as hell never would of heard of Mattfield. But this is where the story started. Back then there was a factory here. It sort of give folks a reason for living in Mattfield. Once the plant was gone there weren't a reason no more, and anyone needing work just left. It's kind of quiet now. Fact there's just me.

But this story ain't about now, it's about then. The young guys at the factory, them that couldn't get out of it, was all doing their patriotic duty in Vietnam. Most of 'em had their patriotic duties splattered across some rice field by the Viet Cong. While they was off getting themselves killed, the factory took on women and other second rate people to fill the gaps. Them years saw some odd characters on the shop floor. A lot of 'em couldn't of got work minding street poles nowhere else.

But I'm gonna tell you about two people that was about as different from each other as a lobster and a bank. The only thing they had in common was they was both outsiders, and they got kind of squeezed together by fate.

I'll tell you about what happened to these two. I'll try make it sound like a real story, you know, throw in a few jokes and make you feel like you was there too. I'm new at all this. Here goes.