Sunday, October 11, 2009
Honcut city limits
I recently traveled down to San Francisco, and in the interim stopped in my hometown Oroville. Being in that general area of great beauty that my friends ex boyfriend described as the background to a mario brothers game reminded me of one the other random places that my rag tag childhood traveled to. There was a time when I was a child that my mother and her drug dealer boyfriend must have gotten adventurous and spun a globe and put a finger down, laughing and talking of the wild experiences and foreign people they will encounter while doing so, and that finger landed on the humble town of Honcut. In reality instead of a globe it was a crack pipe and a chance to cook methamphetamine out of the reach of those vice like sleuths that are the cops of Oroville. I have no real idea how they/we ended up there in a rundown old two story house. I'm sure my mothers boyfriend agreed to kill someone to get it or something, being the cunning business man that he is. The Honcut house was held together by nothing more than popsicle sticks and shattered dreams. I traveled between this house and my grandmothers house, since Honcut was about 20 minutes outside of Oroville (who knew heaven was so close?), so I was given a room....upstairs. I write that with a foreboding hesitation because to travel upstairs was not unlike entering the temple of doom. Every step was a willingness to die in some horrible boobytrap. The stairs could not have been more than a bunch of pallets and old rotten firewood crafted together and covered with blue insulation (to match the walls, Martha would be proud). If you make it up the stairs you're not out of the woods. You then get to dodge the rusty nails holding the second floor together. The only thing that made all of this more fun was when the generator would run out of gas and all the lights would shut off, which happened often not unlike the chime of a grandfather clock. I guess when confronted with decision to buy gas to keep you out of the dark ages, and buying meth, the choice is an easy one, you don't need electricity to light up. When that bell tolled you prayed you were close enough to the bottom of the stairs to make it down in one piece (no banister), and not so far up that you had no option but to go up. For to go up in the dark meant one thing. The rats would come out. These are rats that would eat a baby before it could coo at them. The few times I remember sleeping up there it was a orchestra of scuttling and chewing. Coupled with the random porcelain dolls that my mother gingerly placed throughout the rooms, it was like Stanley Kubrick did the decorating. But it wasn't all rats, dolls, and rusty nails....there were bee's too. We came home one day to find that the house was full of bees. I suppose in your less quirky homes you might have covered the hole that used to house a wood stove pipe, but out in Honcut people aren't so bogged down by societal standards or safety. I mean, bee's need a place to build a hive too you know. Aside from the casa del grandeur there was the actual town of Honcut...which in my opinion rivals the greats like Venice, Paris, and Chernobyl. Population would be about 200 hundred I'd say. There was a church, a k-3rd school, and a general store. Well strike that, there is now a church and a k-3rd school. The general store met its untimely demise while I lived there. There was a night when Honcut was all a twitter. We walked down the street to see the general store burning down. It was awesome, like the 4th of july. Everyone felt bad, but really wanted to clap at the same time. It burned to the ground. About the a week later me and some of my local Honcut friends, A girl named billy, her sister Koochie, and my "girlfriend" Nikki, were all swimming at the local swimming hole and we were waiting for some local boys to show up on bikes. They never showed up, something was awry all "Stand by me" like. We all walked back and when we crossed the road there was shattered glass all over the road and a pool of bright red. Turns out, one of the boys had just looted the burnt down general store (as most Honcut natives were doing, come to think of it it was arson that burned that place down...hmmmm) and were riding over to us with a couple of six packs of hawaiian punch and crashed his bike on the road due to the weight. He sliced his chest open and went to the hospital. He was not far from the rail road tracks....and his friend did kinda look like a young River Phoenix....if you were a closet gay kid and he rarely wore his shirt. My then girlfriend eventually broke up with me cause she thought he liked her....Heartache in Honcut. Honcut was a terrible place, but I had some experiences there. We outlived a tornado there, I rode 4 wheelers and shot crows with a b-b gun. A coming of age really.
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now i know where you get your rough edge from...
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