Redneck Raindance by Willie Smith

It threat­ened rain,
so I got out my gun, got in the car
and gunned it on down to the grave­yard,
where it was dark and nobody would know,
but I knew the clouds would see clear.

I got out and got my gun out,
fired myr­i­ad rounds at the atmos­phere
and gunned down the clouds.
Fog fell in patch­es, then cleared.
I got my gun down,
head­ed for the car;
over­head stars start­ed to appear
and I again began to breathe in fear.

The more fired at, the more the stars broke out.
I shot more and more flared up. I shot up
the sky, then drove home, sad as hell.
Shot the dog, shot the wife, shot my Play­boys;
final­ly reloaded and wait­ed for the sirens,
that nev­er came. It began to rain.
I got in the car, backed out over the dog,
laid a patch on the wife’s ass,
got going real good and
gunned it on down to the grave­yard,

where it was dark and nobody would know,
but I knew the clouds would see clear.

Willie Smith is deeply ashamed of being human. His work cel­e­brates this hor­ror. His sto­ry anthol­o­gy NOTHING DOING is here: http://www.amazon.com/Nothing-Doing-Willie-Smith/dp/0956665896/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1343352354&sr=1–1&keywords=nothing+doing+willie+smith .

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