What would the world be without societal norms? I used to know a guy a named Norm. What century is it?

By Melvin Conners

Oh, well I’ll be damned if it isn’t a disrespectful young hooligan sitting in front of my porch with spiky, green hair. I oughta teach you a thing or two about going with the grain once in a while, paying your respects to Uncle Sam and all that. I mean, really—What would this world be without societal norms?

I used to know a guy named Norm. We protected each other’s backs in the stink-hole of Germany during the war between the allies. Norm had three jobs in the war: shooting good-for-nothing-rascally Germans in the face, massaging the lieutenant’s right foot when he got cranky, and cleaning the latrines.

Speaking of which, my family actually had a latrine for the first fifteen years of my life. That fancy indoor-plumbing magic didn’t even exist until around 1830 or 1978—hard to remember now. Every night I got the runs from my mee-maw’s potbelly salad I would have to ambulate my way back to that rickety wooden poop-hole in the darkness. I’d often come back with a couple of scratches and coyote bites.

Yeah… I remember when I got my very first record, “Coyote Thunder” by Grimm and Stokes, only to have it scratched by my little brother, Willis, right after I got home. That sure put a thorn under my rear! Speaking of thorns in rears, Coyote Thunder was the album I lost my youth to with Mary-Sue. I was so thrilled to be able to snap my fingers to those happening beats that I…

Come to think of it, beets were actually a staple back when I was growing up. They constituted almost every meal. Breakfast we steamed ‘em, lunch we grilled ‘em, and by the time dinner rolled around we just ate those buggers raw. Let me tell you, they weren’t any easier coming out than going in.

Yessiree, they’re actually building a Days Inn right across the way, it makes me want to throw up. I went over their last night and took a piss on the sign. Now I bet we’re going to have business folk flappin’ their suits around, acting like they’re in the heyday…

Oh, right, the good old hay days of the spring sure do take me back. Mr. David would pay me and Willis a nickel for every bale we moved; we could make a dollar in a single day and then go blow it all on root beer and cigarettes. Then we’d go home and watch dirty movies.

You know, I remember my fist watch. I stole it from my grammar teacher back in the fifth grade. She had just told us about predicate nominatives and I decided that enough was enough. I couldn’t take any more.

Stars, bars, and shitbox cars; I’m of a Moorish descent, believe it or not. My family came here on a ship from Wales during the drought….

And to tell you the truth, I didn’t believe my sister when she told me she saw a whale in 1973. I didn’t much believe in whales. If they were really that big, then why hadn’t I seen…

How long have I been talking? Where I am I? Oh, well I’ll be damned if it isn’t a disrespectful young hooligan sitting in front of my porch with an earring in each ear… Have you met my friend Norm?