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The Joneses Leave Home 3,000 Two Teens run from the law. (standard:drama, 12086 words)
Author: Oscar A RatAdded: Jun 13 2020Views/Reads: 1393/1027Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Sonny and sister Janie come from a broken home. When Janie faces jail, they take off in a stolen car with a stolen revolver. On the way to a new life, they rob a bank. Settling in another town, they meet three punks....
 



"Sonny, get me that other bottle, honey," Mama orders from the couch.
"And a Coke. I'm about out." Mama's drunk again, flat on her ass. She 
says, an can prove to social services, that her back is bad. Shit, her 
back's bad from lying on that doc's table while he screws her. That's 
all what's wrong with it. 

Last week, Mama was out back, digging a garden to plant flowers. Her
back was okay then. The doc, he don't give a flying fuck since he gets 
laid for only five minutes of writing a paper. She then shows the 
welfare an gets her money. 

Me an my sister Janie, along with Mama, has to live off that money she
gets, buying food an clothes, an school supplies. The state pays our 
utilities, so I got all the free water I can drink, needing it to drown 
the baloney an beans in my stomach. 

"I found the Coke, Mama, but can't find your vodka," I call back to her.


We live in a small farming town in mid-Ohio, A-hi-a, as we calls it.
It's called "Johnson's Roost," named after a black family with money 
that moved here after the Civil War. 

Course they was driven off later by white farmers, but only after they
cleared the land an built up a farm. My ancestors quickly moved in to 
claim the land, only to be both hung for our audacity an thievery an 
chased off the land itself -- only getting to keep the farmhouse. The 
house, being essentially worthless since it was half-burned down in the 
battle, we still own. It's still half-burnt, an that was a 150 years 
ago. Well, in our favor, it's not as bad inside as it looks from 
outside. Though the roof leaks in my bedroom, it leaks into a hole in 
the floor. No big thing. 

"It's there somewhere, Sonny," she says about the vodka. 

I can hear her moving around, the couch squeaking like a herd'a meeses.
"I gotta do everything myself? I work my tush off for you two and get 
nothing in return." 

Mama ain't about to do no manual labor, an ain't, same as the rest of
us, got no brains for nothing else. I ain't never had no old man, him 
being one of a steady stream of guys in the front door an out the back 
-- in order not to be seen by the next. Each leaves a five-dollar bill 
on the kitchen counter if Mama is sober enough to insist. 

Me an Janie hasn't got half the clothes we need. I got me two pair of
pants to her three, an we share four shirts, mix an match. Me being 
seventeen and her sixteen, they fit good enough. Our shoes is not two 
the same, not even the same color. We keep an eye on trash cans as we 
pass, hoping to get some what matches. Socks are saved for social 
functions, standing stiff in a corner of my room until needed. 

Mama pushes past me, banging into the kitchen doorway, slamming into the
refrigerator an a causing all those plastic thingies on top to vibrate 
an threaten to fall. They're to hold leftovers, which we never got any 
of. 

Janie dreams a being an artist when she grows. Fat chance. She can't
barely color inside the lines in a coloring book. 

Me? I dunno. Maybe to just stay out'a jail as much as I can. We got us
three real uncles, all in one jail or another. We still have us two 
stolen cars behind the house from where Uncle Jim put them. By the time 
he gets out he's gonna be too old to get underneath to file the serial 
numbers off, anyhow. 

One of them might run, I been thinking, maybe? I spend a lot of time
playing with an working on it. It's a nice three-year old 1969 Caddy. 
Our family ain't never been nothing, ain't nothing now, an ain't never 
gonna be nothing. 

"Jesus Christ, here it is -- empty. What the hell am I going to do,
Sunday and out of booze?" Mama complains, shaking an empty bottle. 

Maybe stay sober long enough to take a bath? I think, or clean the


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