Till woke up to the bus driver shaking him. "Port Laveau is where you get off man." Till instinctively grabbed the driver's forearm and reached for his shiv. He then remembered how he got there and why his shiv was missing.

A few hours (days maybe?) before he was brought in to see his old friend Sheriff Beauregard Davis III. Turns out the bitch he was shackin up with was no other than his grand niece. It was his deputies who, after getting in their last rounds of persuasion on his body, put him on the bus with half a pack of smokes, a shit lighter, along with the 40 bucks they found hidden in his shoes. Oh yeah, and of course, his skateboard.

He wasn't looking to shack up with nobody when he entered the old juke joint outside of the shit hole town Till had come to call home. He was looking to get drunk and get his junk wet after getting out of state. Then he saw her, Amy Jo. Amelia Josephine Davis as he would soon find out, was at the end of the bar buying shots for everyone. She had that ombre hair some fancy eye makeup and expensive nails that meant she had money or did hair for a living. She was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt that her titties filled out paired with a piece of fabric that might pass for a skirt that showed the lower curve of a fine southern peach of an ass. Till asked her if he could have his as a titty shot. Amy Jo didn't slap the shit outta him but flashed a grin that the devil would be ashamed of. Till had found his one.

"Nine years, if you're lucky." That's what the dumb ass lawyer told him he would be gettin. Fuck, he didn't even kill the guy, he was just in the car, along with the five gym bags of meth and pot. "If not you'd be spending the last year and a half of your teens through your early thirties as a ward of the state." The lawyer was wearing a shitty tie. When did Till ever feel lucky?

"Till Hall. You are now a ward of the state. Do you understand what that means?" Yeah, dumbass, it means that my grandpa forgot to check the fire on the still or fucked up the order in making the next batch of meth. "You'll be going into a nice group home for boys." One thing his grandpa would always say. "Nothin the state runs is good boy."

Till was sitting on the bench outside the bus station waiting for his grandpa to pick him up, his momma told him to be a good boy  for him and he would take care of him when she went away for some things. Till held tight to the garbage bag of  clothes and his skateboard.

"I got your birthday present early Tilly!" He knew something was wrong. Ma's face was sad but her voice was happy -well kinda happy. It was the skateboard he was looking at when they went to Walmart to get some new clothes to start first grade.

Till rubbed his eyes awake. "Yeah dude, I'm coming. Who pissed in your coffee?" He grabbed his board and followed the driver to the front of the bus. He stepped down into the humid air and pulled out his pack of cigs. Eight left. He put one between his lips and lit up and took a long drag. He held it in, closed his eyes and saw his Ma smiling. He exhaled and opened his eyes. "Let's fuck this town."