The Dust Bowl: Sweet home oklahoma
“C’mon Jace.” I yelled in the soft playful voice I would always use with him. He jumped up and quickly ran towards us. Scott picked up the big fluffy golden retriever. Scott, my son, Jace our dog, and I were traveling from Oklahoma to California in escape of the bizarre black blizzard. Our trailer got beat up by the terrible storm, we barely made it out alive. “Hey ma’, I think we’re here.” Scott joyfully yelled. There appeared to be some sort of migrant camp in the distance. “After all of that hitch-hiking and endless hours of walking we’re finally here ma’. Jace bursted into a sprint churning churning wet soil with his rear paws. The soil was so much different from the dust dirt back home. Scott and I followed Jace into the migrant camp. The people there were friendly. The only rules were: “Don’t steal” and “be polite.” They even had a motto, “Keep your possessions close, and your children closer.” This creeped me out a little, but everybody here seemed trustworthy. I went to sleep in fear that night.
The next day I decided to go search for some work, anything to get money. Scott had his own tent so I went to tell him. I gently said, “Scott, it’s time to wake up.” He didn’t respond. “He ought to be tired.” I thought to myself. I let myself in. He was gone, but there was a note on his old torn up pillow, “If you want him back come to Easy Pete’s shop up in Goodsprings.” I ran back into my tent and grabbed my bag which contained a rifle, Ammo, water, and a bag a of expired potato chips. I asked Bill, the leader of the migrant camp, where Goodsprings was. It was just a couple of miles north of here. I kept on thinking, “What did they want with me, but nore importantly what did they want with Scott, Who were they,? What did they have against me?” I could hear the sound of my heart beating against my sweaty chest. I was thinking so much that I didn’t even realize that Jace was following me. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but it was too late to send him back. There was a sign that said, “Welcome to Goodsprings, population- 59, deaths- 269, Wetting your tongue since 1929.” This town is near many water sources which explains the, “Wetting your tongue part,” but it’s only four years old and it already has 269 deaths. “Who even keeps track of deaths?” I said to Jace as if he could understand me. I asked someone where I could fin Easy Pete’s, but they spat on me, and said, “Retarded Okie.” I pulled out my rifle, and asked again. “It- It’s right over there, n- nex- next to those crates.” He nervously said. I walked over to Easy Pete’s, kicked open the door and that’s when all hell broke loose…
I ducked beside a metal counter and pulled Jace towards me. There was bullets flying above and on either side of me. There was five of them, but one of me. I was out-numbered, but where I lacked in numbers I made up in skill. I used to go hunting with my dad when I was younger, and I can tell by the way these guys are shooting that they aren’t experienced. I quickly peered over the counter and saw Scott, he was tied up in rope and trying to scream for help. I could smell the gun powder as if it were just plain oxygen. I’ve never killed, but my son’s life was in danger. I threw the expired potato chips in the air, and one of them shot it which was exactly what I was hoping for. As the bag exploded, I shot 2 of the kidnappers ankles, injuring them. The other three tried shooting, but it was clear to me that they had no ammo. I walked up to them, whacked them both with the tip of my rifle, knocking them out. Luckily, nobody got killed. I untied Scott, and hugged him tight as possible saying, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” We both walked out of the blood bath uninjured, but Jace was a different story. Unfortunately, he ate one of the expired chips, so he was sick. Scott and I decided to go back to Oklahoma, where we were welcome. Who knows, maybe the storm has cleared up by now. And that’s how I met your father.
The next day I decided to go search for some work, anything to get money. Scott had his own tent so I went to tell him. I gently said, “Scott, it’s time to wake up.” He didn’t respond. “He ought to be tired.” I thought to myself. I let myself in. He was gone, but there was a note on his old torn up pillow, “If you want him back come to Easy Pete’s shop up in Goodsprings.” I ran back into my tent and grabbed my bag which contained a rifle, Ammo, water, and a bag a of expired potato chips. I asked Bill, the leader of the migrant camp, where Goodsprings was. It was just a couple of miles north of here. I kept on thinking, “What did they want with me, but nore importantly what did they want with Scott, Who were they,? What did they have against me?” I could hear the sound of my heart beating against my sweaty chest. I was thinking so much that I didn’t even realize that Jace was following me. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but it was too late to send him back. There was a sign that said, “Welcome to Goodsprings, population- 59, deaths- 269, Wetting your tongue since 1929.” This town is near many water sources which explains the, “Wetting your tongue part,” but it’s only four years old and it already has 269 deaths. “Who even keeps track of deaths?” I said to Jace as if he could understand me. I asked someone where I could fin Easy Pete’s, but they spat on me, and said, “Retarded Okie.” I pulled out my rifle, and asked again. “It- It’s right over there, n- nex- next to those crates.” He nervously said. I walked over to Easy Pete’s, kicked open the door and that’s when all hell broke loose…
I ducked beside a metal counter and pulled Jace towards me. There was bullets flying above and on either side of me. There was five of them, but one of me. I was out-numbered, but where I lacked in numbers I made up in skill. I used to go hunting with my dad when I was younger, and I can tell by the way these guys are shooting that they aren’t experienced. I quickly peered over the counter and saw Scott, he was tied up in rope and trying to scream for help. I could smell the gun powder as if it were just plain oxygen. I’ve never killed, but my son’s life was in danger. I threw the expired potato chips in the air, and one of them shot it which was exactly what I was hoping for. As the bag exploded, I shot 2 of the kidnappers ankles, injuring them. The other three tried shooting, but it was clear to me that they had no ammo. I walked up to them, whacked them both with the tip of my rifle, knocking them out. Luckily, nobody got killed. I untied Scott, and hugged him tight as possible saying, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” We both walked out of the blood bath uninjured, but Jace was a different story. Unfortunately, he ate one of the expired chips, so he was sick. Scott and I decided to go back to Oklahoma, where we were welcome. Who knows, maybe the storm has cleared up by now. And that’s how I met your father.