Speaking Of Blood And Fire
I still remember when my dad attempted to have “The Talk” with me. It was on a bleak lonely dirt road when I was twelve when my dad started awkwardly mentioning something about birds and bees and the unclean acts that these horrific creatures got up to.
So long story short, I found myself leaping desperately from the passenger side of a beat up pickup determined to save my fragile psyche from a well meaning conversation I didn’t need and greatly feared.
I won’t bore you with the details of my flight to freedom, nor the dark pacts I was forced to make to stay alive. Blood was spilled, souls were bartered. You know, the usual stuff.
Suffice it to say it was a dark night that scars me to this day.