I am writing the Dancing Queen Ray-Ray part bit by bit, but here's what I have so far:
Ray Person ended up in Nashville after his band broke up. It wasn’t L.A., but it still wasn’t Nevada, Missouri and at least he could still watch NASCAR here without people calling him a dumb hick.
Because lacrosse was clearly a superior sport according to the elitist jackasses who populated most of Ray’s former college campus. Not that he held anything against elitist jackasses, they paid for a good bit of his gas money and music gear with their failures to beat Ray Person in a debate. Hell, one of his best buds was an elitist lacrosse playing Aryan poster child Orange County Republican supporting motorcycle felony-level speeding jackass and he still loved the dude.
Nashville still had its own bullshit levels of classes and acceptance, from the type of people who got out of the trailer park and acted like their shit smelled like Chanel No. 5 to those who wouldn’t associate with anyone who didn’t wear the White Trash and Red Neck badges with pride. Thank god there was still some pockets of apparent sanity in the city, because that’s where Ray wound up. He worked the soundboard and messes about with the drum kits to cover his room-and-board when her first stumbled into Allison’s. Now he did the same for an actual paycheck. It wasn’t so much a step up but since Haldane wouldn’t let him behind the bar, and Hillbilly threatened to deep-fry his balls if he ever touched once of his precious banjos, Ray made do.
Ray Person ended up in Nashville after his band broke up. It wasn’t L.A., but it still wasn’t Nevada, Missouri and at least he could still watch NASCAR here without people calling him a dumb hick.
Because lacrosse was clearly a superior sport according to the elitist jackasses who populated most of Ray’s former college campus. Not that he held anything against elitist jackasses, they paid for a good bit of his gas money and music gear with their failures to beat Ray Person in a debate. Hell, one of his best buds was an elitist lacrosse playing Aryan poster child Orange County Republican supporting motorcycle felony-level speeding jackass and he still loved the dude.
Nashville still had its own bullshit levels of classes and acceptance, from the type of people who got out of the trailer park and acted like their shit smelled like Chanel No. 5 to those who wouldn’t associate with anyone who didn’t wear the White Trash and Red Neck badges with pride. Thank god there was still some pockets of apparent sanity in the city, because that’s where Ray wound up. He worked the soundboard and messes about with the drum kits to cover his room-and-board when her first stumbled into Allison’s. Now he did the same for an actual paycheck. It wasn’t so much a step up but since Haldane wouldn’t let him behind the bar, and Hillbilly threatened to deep-fry his balls if he ever touched once of his precious banjos, Ray made do.
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