Getting The Hell Outta Dodge

I can’t believe I’ve been in one state for seven months. As much as I love it here, there are a lot of toxic people and dynamics from my childhood that just aren’t good to be around for so long, even if I am always moving in circles.

So I’m getting the hell outta dodge. This is another one of those teevee things for which I’m not exactly aware of the original reference, but I have my own original reference which I will tell you:

I was sixteen and crazy, living in my truck and running from bumps in the night and my father, who really did want to hurt me. There was a cop, a bossy manipulative woman with a heart of gold, and she decided that I was going to be “her success story.” First she tried to put my father in jail, but that worked only briefly. It did succeed in straightening me out, though, because underage strippers who lived on the street did not make good witnesses. When that didn’t work, she decided that I could preserve my life and maybe move towards something like sanity if I would get the hell outta dodge. So I did. I met a middle aged closeted lesbian on the internet and moved to Texas to be her personal concubine and a poor little street urchin that she saved and sent to college. It wasn’t exactly what my cop friend had in mind, but it was a step away from where I had been.

So now it is time to get the hell outta dodge again.

It’s eight at night. I just woke up, and I’m outta heres. Wish me luck at the border, my passport and driver’s license are in two different names… 😈