The house behind the old oak tree with the yellow ribbon around it had stayed mostly dark. Curtains pulled tight. The smell of nicotine like cans of tuna not rinsed out.
"Why (i)one nation under God(i)?" A kid asked a weathered old man dropping off a trashcan of dogfood. "On account of the Commies," the old man said. "They're like one bunch of groups of brutal animals under a couple dictators." The man spit and the plug of tobacco slipped out too. He picked it up and let his fingers wipe off the dirt. Put it back in his mouth. "War changed a lot of our men into brutal animals too. It's a pickle. We're having to relearn how to fear God and obey outtah respect. This is a real mess," the man pulled at wire mesh put over a hole in the wall out back. It had become a squirrel's nest. People knew that but didn't want to mess with a missing man's property.
"OW, OWIE, GOSHDARNIT," the man had cut his finger and sucked on his own blood. He had bloody teeth when he winced, then smiled. "I know where we can get a bandaid! Come with me."
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