Sometimes, you take the wrong turn into the wrong neighborhood and park in the wrong driveway. Missing the “no parking” sign can be the least of your problems...
“It really pays not to get stupid drunk,” nine-year-old Milton Trent said as a whole group of drunk partygoers went running from the Ludlow door as fast as they could with the voice of Capt. R.E. Ludlow booming in full enraged basso profondo glory behind them as he stood holding his shotgun: “YOU DRUNKS BETTER BE GLAD I'M A CHRISTIAN AND DON'T SHOOT TURKEYS ANY MORE – AT LEAST NOT ON FRIDAY NIGHTS, BUT TRY THIS SMACK AGAIN AND SEE!”
“And see, this is why Papa V.T. would not have anything to do with moonshine or drugs, because people who do are just setting people up to be at the wrong door and scare somebody's grandbabies half to death and get a tail full of buckshot or worse,” eleven-year-old Velma Trent said.
“Ain't it the truth,” eight-year-old Gracie Trent said. “It coulda been worse, though – they coulda come over here with Grandma Jubilee in the house.”
“Ain't it the truth,” Velma and Milton said.
“Y'all know she's up on the second floor sitting point as it is in case some of them run this way,” Velma said.
“It really pays not to get stupid drunk,” Milton said. “You just never know where the grandparents who don't play about their grandbabies are waiting on you, locked and loaded.”
“Ain't it the truth,” Gracie and Velma said as the tow truck arrived to pull the now-empty party van out of the Ludlow driveway.
