It is hardly ever the small-town baker who goes to church, pays his taxes and plays on the Rotary softball team that inspires people to shove their neighbors toward large pits behind the barrel of a gun. Where humanistic, self-aggrandizement is the norm, the small-town baker is made to kneel before the pit. TL Davis
So last weekend, my dear old friend and
confidant Mlle Jenny is on her way to Road Atlanta, where she is a
timekeeper, does all the tough work of making sure everyone’s every
second is counted.
And on the way her co-worker, who is driving, says “Oh! I think I hit
a dog!” they hear a thump but it’s too dark and too late to do much
about it, and Jenny doesn’t see anything, they drive on.