I sit on a busted up lawn chair, laying back and holding a crayon skin above my head just toiling with it as the cold Fall air blows through contrasting the hot sun, until for reasons unknown to me, I see you walk past my trailer. Sense I haven't ever seen you before I hop up to greet you.

"Who the fuckin hell're you?" I ask, tilting my head as if that were the most common greeting ever.