Voltaic Junkyard--redneck barbecue

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--redneck barbecue"
   
   Adam thought he'd listen to a little country music, though all the chicks in the business wore high heels and party dresses, when they really needed blue-jeans and cowboy boots, with a straw-hat to match--for hasn't reality television showed us enough fat asses?  And what man would want a fat ass?  Of course many non-evolved types have their heads--FAR UP THEM!
   He remembered the girl in his youth, and as King Solomon mentioned--that's the one whose bosom will entertain you all of your days.  She wasn't curvaceous, and definitely wasn't sitting on two tubs of low curd cottage cheese.  She was just--nice.  Sweet.  Honest.  True Blue.  Blonde, for real.  Blue-eyed; plus, wore the casual cool of a baseball cap on Saturdays with a pony-tail cascading lovingly behind, swinging angelically across her invisible-winged shoulders when she gave motion to the force of her soul.  Most importantly--she gave a damn about him, and that's all that mattered; however, true love is a rare occurrence, for envy gets the best of onlookers.  Adam missed her.  And now, all he had was Roger to pal around with, go to the bar with, and they'd both talk about their overly mundane lives--Adam not knowing Roger was a federal informant, of course.
   Adam had luck--it was just all bad.  On the other hand, Roger had class--it was just all low.  Boy, we gotta untangle this yarn here.