Stevie Joe Discovers Junior the Poet

Well, we finally arrived home, and Junior got to come along for the ride. This is a bigger deal than it sounds. See, normally, Junior can only go for so long before he passes out. However, without alcohol in the equation, he is a non-stop blab machine. Turns out that lack of booze makes him more miserable than ever, and, boy, did he want to talk about it!

After telling him to shut the hell up for the 400th time, Mrs. Stevie Joe finally threatened physical violence. If anyone can put the fear of God in you, it's an angry Mrs. Stevie Joe. So, Junior took to writing his thoughts on paper. I didn't even know he could read! Here is a selection:

My face of rage
Flying fists come
No control

I feel the shame
Can't face the truth
Hurt myself

Whaddya know. A regular poet. Maybe, he's like Charles Bukowski, except stupid.

Hiding all the sharp objects,
Stevie Joe Parker