I took leave of my father's decrepit farmhouse in my modest Guatemalan automobile,
making reasonable pace across a landscape bereft of anything resembling what I had come to know as modernity.
I eventually reached the general store, a flimsy wooden structure that emitted a dark cloud of smoke from a narrow chimney,
A wooden sign below it reading, "Sneed's feed and seed. Formerly Chuck's".
Two locals sat outside in the midday sun, accomplishing nothing and seemingly content in their doing so.
Their bestial stupidity, likely the result of generations of inbreeding and race-mixing.

"Well well! look at the city slicker pullin' up in his fancy German car!"

"This car was manufactured in Guatemala.", I'm quick to add.
The larger local turned to me and spoke,

"Well, pardon us Mr. Gucci loafers."

"I bought these shoes at a nearby pharmacy."

As I try and make my way into the building, the local speaks again.

"Well ladida! Mr. Park Avenue manicure."

"I should have you know, I believe in good grooming."

As I walked into the store with my rake and a bag of soil, the owner, a senile old man greets me.

"Teh! you're not gonna' grow anything at the ol' Simpson place! Thats why your daddy abandoned it."

"Well sir, I think your obligated to your opinions but, what do you really know?"

"I know your soil PH is up round' 9.6 and you needa' 7 to 8 max.."

"All you know is a superstition created by feeble minds."
"I will be growing something beyond your comprehension, you can spectate me as I do it."

I then took a scoop of "Gummy Bears", I still have no idea as to what a "Gummy" is, but in my pride I hadn't realized that I had.

The old man spoke again, "Not if ya' planting Gummy Bears!"

In my complete anger and frustration I bark out the phrase, "Doh!".