Where do villages get their idiots?

This picture should set the tone properly.

So I was reminded today of my time delivering pizzas almost 10 years ago in a small town in central Missouri. The town I was working in was no larger than 5,000 people, and I'm pretty sure that included the inmates of a rather large state penitentiary. Technically though, we delivered to a few surrounding areas that were even smaller, some as small as 200.

Before I get too far into this rant I want everyone to know that my dad lived in, I lived in, and my grandparents still live in a town of only 500 people. I have nothing against a town where there may or may not be a local cop on the payroll at any given time. Or a town that makes you take the swimming test every single year growing up before you could jump off the diving board like you magically forgot how to swim over the winter... fuckers.

Back to our other town being of slightly smaller size and greater stupidity. It was a very rare occasion when we left our little tight-knit town to deliver to the surrounding areas, and this was my first time delivering to Moronville. The town's geography is not unlike many in rural mid-Missouri. Resting atop a steep hill, a state highway with a 45-mph speed limit divides the town into two halves with some kind or grocery store/post office combination on one side and a bank or what have you on the other. Frankly I'm not 100% sure about there being all those things, or even one of those things, but the town existed nonetheless.

As I topped the hill into town I realized I had failed to check the map for the road I was delivering to. No matter I thought, the town has about 6 east-west roads and 4 north-south roads not including the highway. It really can't be that hard to find Morgan St. in a quarter-mile by quarter-mile area... Well, dear reader, fuck that bullshit. This is the short story of trying to find that street.

There were really only two options as my Ford Explorer rolled into town slowing down to go either right or left off the main stretch. I turned left and drove one block and took a right traveling parallel the highway. Up in the distance I spot a family of 5 walking along the edge of the road. 2 kids younger than 10 and their parents just beside them pushing a stroller down the roughly paved road. The first street sign I spot is halfway between where I turned onto the side road and them. "Cappeller Ave."... whatever the fuck that means.


I continued on at a hasty pace of 5 mph toward the family, my thought process being that perhaps they knew where Morgan St. was, because it's a family that's walking their kids through the streets. There are like 10 streets. They should, by all intents and purposes be aware of at least the 2 streets I've just been on, and seriously, if they've been walking for more than 30 minutes they ought to know all 10 roads well enough now to sponsor a neighborhood hide and seek competition. It's that fucking small.

My vehicle pulls alongside them and I roll my window down. I can't tell whether they're staring at me because I'm an outsider or because they've never seen a metal buggy without a horse pulling. They seriously looked at me as though I were a damn alien. Okay, earthlings, where is Morgan St. They just... stared at me. Oh I get it, how could I not know where Morgan street is with only 10 roads? Yeah yeah jokes on me, I didn't look at the map before I left, now tell me where the street is.

Realistically, maybe they didn't hear me, "Do you guys know where Morgan Street is?"

"I think it's on the other side of town," said the mother.
"We're not from around here," said the father.

Uh... if you're not from around here... why in the fuck are you out with the family walking down one of the streets with any knowledge of the road at all? Either you're in town visiting family and you don't know where it is, or you live here and you know exactly where it is. For fuck's sake I could get out of my vehicle, pick up a rock and throw it and hit any street in the town from here, so how the fuck can you even say "other side of town" with a straight face? I feel like that inherently implies that your town is large enough to have more than one side. I'm sorry, dear people not from here, but you must realize that this town is a Mobius strip from hell and I implore to seek and find it's other side.

Gee, Billy Joe, are you sure you don't know the other streets in town?

"Okay," I said calmly as I rolled up my window and drove away from the crazy family. I let my questions about their reasons for being on that particular street fade away as I took a right at the corner back to the highway. I took a lazy left and went South a block and took a right. Sure, now I'm on the other side of town. Why not...

I continue West for a block and run out of room. No where to go but back to the North. I check upward for a street sign to see an empty metal post adorning the corner. How helpful. How fucking typically helpful. My eyes pan back down to the house on the corner where there is a woman sitting on her porch swing in a night gown. Of course if the porch swing had been on the porch it would have been less creepy than if were in the yard; too bad that's exactly where she was.

Okay, I know from the street sign on the highway that I'm at the corner of High street and some other random crappy street, maybe Ms. Public Pajamas knows where Morgan street is....

"Excuse me, but do you know where Morgan street this is?" I asked.

"No," she replied.

Ok, fuck this lady. You live at the corner of High street and the street I'm asking about and you wanna tell me that you don't know what street it is? YOU LIVE ON IT!

The only thing I could muster as a response was, "Oh..."
"Well do you know where Morgan street is?" I considered that this may have been the more appropriate question in the first place.

"No, I think that's back on the other side of town."

It's a fucking conspiracy... At this point I want to get the fuck out of this town pronto. Everyone is officially batshit crazy. If The Hills Have Eyes wasn't a remake of a 1977 film I'd say it was written based on this fucking town.

Creepy ass movie was creepy

For all I know the 1977 version might have been written about this fucking town. At whatever rate I needed to get right the hell out of there ASAP. People not knowing what fucking street they live on, that's some Wes Craven shit right there.

I had already made the right turn onto the unknown avenue so heading the crazy lady's advice (for whatever reason) I drove North along the road looking for the first place to turn around (and potentially a street sign so I can cross another street off my list). I came to the first corner and prepared to make a right hand turn back to the highway. I looked up to the bent street sign and tried to make out the wording. It was clear that the street I was going to turn on to get back to the highway was Moniteau street, but the bent part of the sign required me to round the corner a bit to make out the word "Morgan".

... that crazy bitch....

"Trolled!"

I sat there for a moment pondering how the woman wearing a night gown at 3pm could not only be unaware of what road she lived on, but also try to send me back "across town" when I inquired about Morgan street when in reality, both her house and my car were residing on that fucking street while we had our little conversation.

I whipped my car back onto Morgan pissed off that I had heeded the advice of anyone in this town at all and starting looking at the house numbers. The direction I needed to deliver the pizza was opposite the woman's house, lucky her. I pulled up out front of a nice little run down house with a picket fence out front and a sign that said BEWARE OF DOG. Of course there's a dog. I looked around, no dog found. I rang the doorbell and the sound of a large dog barking cause me to jump. There's the dog.

A bearded man in a trucker's hat answered the door and said, "Took you a little while." Fuck this guy

"Yeah well it's a ways from the restaurant and I had some trouble finding the street."

"Well you know where it is now for next time."

Bull fucking shit there's gonna be a next time. This town blows. I'll let one of the normal drivers take this shit next time.

After an exchange of goods I was putting his check in my money bag when he casually asked me how much money I carry on deliveries.



"Only $20. Gotta go have a good day." Get me the FUCK out of here NOW I thought as I hurried back to my car fully expecting the guy to pull a gun on me. Who would know? How the hell would they ever find me? It's not like there are street signs and clearly no one around here actually pays attention. This is the kind of place pizza delivery drivers disappear I figured. I was probably one of the lucky ones. But then again, that was so many years ago, and so much has happened to me since. This blog is full of evidence of that. Maybe a little bit of hell stuck to me that day..... ew.