Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Tiger'ish Tales Vol 2: It's Genetic

I'm the youngest of seven kids. In other words, my mom don't give a damn. Whereas Logan's entire clan left the middle ages that is a Tennessee goat farm to see him off (yes, of course, he was the first to go to college), my mother lasted long enough to leave my shit at the curb. Once Logan's family accepted my existence, they got pretty dependent on me for "big city" advice. Imagine the rednecks from The Simpsons, and you've got a pretty decent idea. They stuck around for several days of freshman orientation and throughout Logan never said a word. They went to the bookstore and got the requirement info for computer purchases and promptly went to Walmart and bought one. I tried to do my own thing but they wouldn't leave me alone. Being a theatre major, I had auditions and they showed up with me. I went to dinner, they went to dinner. Through it all Logan never spoke. I finally found a way to lose them by suggesting they attend some of Logan's orientation activities, like the pre-med mixer. He was going to be a doctor. They listened, I did my own thing for once and hoped that would be the end. That evening, I returned to our room to find Logan's grandparents spooning in my bed -clothed, at least, his great grandparents and his father in his bed asleep. Logan was exploring his new computer and his mother was sitting at mine. She angrily began chastising me, "What kind of person has a 'password' on their computer? I've been trying to use your computer for some time now, and I can't get in!"

I was Logan's roommate for a week before I heard him utter a syllable.

I would quickly learn that much of Logan's issues were not his doing, but the result of his bizarre redneck life. None of that excuses it, however. It serves merely as a warning to you, the reader, that everything Logan would do, say and be over the next year was encouraged and validated by his family.

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