by Kim Chinquee

After the owner asked my boyfriend Dave and I if we wanted beer or soda, giving Dave a beer, he showed us piles of explosives, what this one did and that one. Each with a name, and the owner took us out, showing what one called Texas Justice was made of. It was a Boomer. Noise with nothing pretty. I told Dave I hated those. We left there with him two beers in and two hundred dollars lesser, and he told me he was happy with his purchase, that he’d give the children memories. (more…)