County Lines by Bob
I wish I could leave my body and fly around during the day like
I do at night.
I wouldn't leave my body just anywhere, like behind the steering
wheel while speeding down a road, where it would probably mindlessly
drive on and on until my truck ran out of gas.
After reentering my body, I'd have to walk to a gas station, unless
someone stopped and gave me a ride, which could happen, I guess.
But taking a chance like that is unnecessary.
Leaving my body in the woods isn't a good idea either. Wild animals
might eat it. When I returned, I wouldn't have a place to go back
into, unless I could find an animal that was out of its body at
But I haven't spent thousands of centuries reincarnating my way
from amoeba to human to slide down the ladder and take up residence
in a lower life form.
Could hell be any worse than being a human in a four-legged life
form, unable to operate a computer and cruise the Internet?
Being Rosie O'Donnell or a cast member of Dharma and Greg could
be worse. But I'm talking about more intelligent life forms, like
possums and rats.
The best place to leave my body would be on the couch after locking
the doors and turning off the phones.
Nothing is more aggravating than jumping back into your body and
hearing someone ask if you want to change your long-distance provider.
When did telephones go from being a convenience to instruments of
Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about my flights at night.
But it's so dark then that seeing clearly is impossible without
But those things make everything look yellow. Yellow trees. Yellow
pastures. Yellow cows. Yellow roads. Yellow fast-food joints. Yellow
people eating yellow burgers and yellow fries covered in yellow
Although it's not my favorite color, I don't have anything against
yellow. But when everything is yellow, it's like a bad trip where
Thorazine is the only way down.
I know what you're thinking. After leaving your body at night,
Bob, why don't you fly someplace where it's not dark?
I've done that before. One evening after going to sleep early,
I flew west. I reached Los Angeles before the sun had set. But I
didn't like it any better there out of my body than I did when I
was in my body.
Los Angeles was designed with two simple concepts in mind. Automobiles
are more important than people and no one should have to walk more
than five feet to go from one strip joint to another.
Not that I have anything against strip joints. Women who can't
dance have as much right to support their drug habits as anyone
I do find it curious now that I used to frequent those places.
The tequila and the pills must have clouded my thinking. Drugs and
alcohol do make people stupid as well as dangerous.
One of the worst or best fights, depending on your viewpoint of
those kind of things, I've ever had was at a strip club in Los Angeles.
I had stopped by to help Rhonda, a chick I'd met at a Doors concert,
wrestle her boa constrictor back into a box after her act.
I was sitting at the bar, trying to keep my beard out of a glass
of tequila and telling a blonde with a tattoo where I'd never seen
one before about the upcoming revolution Morrison had sung about,
"They have the guns, but we have the numbers," when three
Hell's Angels who'd been sizing me up walked over.
The leader said, "You're cool, man. Join our gang and I'll
make you a lieutenant."
"If I can't be the captain," I said, "I don't want
to be anything."
I remember their surprised expressions when one of them slammed
me over the head with a piece of tow chain and I didn't fall down.
That wasn't the first or last time someone hit me over the head
with a hard object.
I was going to shave my head recently. But I changed my mind after
remembering the scars that crisscross it like a road map. I can't
understand why anyone would want to bust my head open.
I've also flown to Israel after leaving my body to see what all
the fighting is about. Dirt. Rocks. Scraggly trees. Crumbling buildings.
Tenement housing. Raw sewage oozing out of the ground. This is what
these people are fighting over, I thought. They must be crazy.
I flew back to the United States as quickly as possible and landed
in Tennessee, the true promised land.
Now that I've thought it over clearly, I don't need to fly during
the day. Flying through the Tennessee night is just right.
Since we all leave our bodies while sleeping, join me on a flight
at night. Don't fear mystical things. Unfold your magical wings.
We'll glide past the Moon and Mars. We'll soar beyond the stars
to a place where all are happy and life is divine. We'll leave our
worries and troubles behind. We'll have fun. We'll have a good time.
Fly away with me. You'll see how free we can be.
Overton County News
415 West Main Street
P.O. Box 479
Livingston, Tennessee 38570