A pink 63 Chevy pulled up inside a shadow in front of the factory. The driver kicked open the stuck passenger door, got out, hitched up her glittery skirt, and peed on the dust. When she was done, she stayed squatting and looked up at the black walls and the meshed-over windows.
There was two lights over the factory sign. One of 'em was throbbing like a hangover. Their job was to announce to the world that this was, 'ROUNDLY'S POOL AND BILLIARD BALL COMPANY CORP. Established 1928'. She should care less. The paint on the sign was peeling and it was kind of embarrassed by all the attention.
Squatting there with her bare ass sticking out she looked one hell of a queer sight. If she'd been that five year old kid beside a rice field in the middle of Laos, no one would of minded. It was all pretty darn normal when she was a kid. You took your bath in the rain hole with the buffalo. You et the scraps that was left for you. And you stuck out your fanny and peed wherever the mood took you.
But there was different rules in Indiana and Ohio and Pennsylvania, and all them other shit holes she'd drifted through over the past sixteen years. All that drifting was slowly rubbing away the memories of what her home had been like. She didn't have that many to start with: her one and only cloth skirt that she'd scrubbed so many times there was only hope holding it together, the sun roasting her bony back when she gathered the squeaky rice, the mosquitoes chewing away at her when she slept on the bare bamboo slats, and the old witch snoring beside her. There was only about that much left.
And time, the same time that was rubbing away the memories, was making them memories feel a lot better than they deserved to be. Cause if she compared them with what she was now, they wasn't so damn bad.
She sighed, climbed into the back seat, and tried to get some kind of sleep over the next three hours. There weren't nothing to dream about.
"Another frigging factory".