Knackered Goes Organic with Benzos

   Hey there.  Knackered here. Knackered will admit that he’s not much of a foodie.  He does know that there are things that you should not eat while on the Benzo trail. 

   But he doesn’t always play by the rules.  It always comes back to haunt him and not just during the Halloween season.  

    Knackered does groceries.  Every Friday morning.  Ms Knackered goes along of course.  Just to make sure they get the good buys and he doesn’t wander off someplace.  

   When they hit the produce section he knows his way around.  Organic bananas always have green tape around the top and the other stuff costs a lot more but tastes about the same.  

    His college scholarship required him to get personal with all things railroad during the summer months.      

   Whether he was shoveling gravel or changing brake shoes on the locomotives, it provided him with a teaching career that actually paid less than his summer job.  

   Knackered’s introduction to organic farming came by way of a co-worker.  One day, he and Jim were dropped off with with a bucket of spikes that only Jim could lift out of the tool wagon.  Knackered went ahead and let him do it.  

   Equipped with hammers (they called them spike mauls), the foreman laid down the rules. They were to  pound them in till he got back.  

    Jim had rules too.  He always said that he wasn’t going to do his work and yours too.  You didn’t want to mess around with Jim (Jim Croce-‘72).  The man could roll a cigarette with one hand and make a perfect turban with his T shirt.  How cool is that?  

    After pounding in spikes for awhile,  Knackered straightened up and took a deep breath. The odor in the air made his eyes water. What was that horrible smell he asked?  

   The ensuing conversation went something like this:  You  sees them buildings over yonder? Well, them there raises cheekins.  Sums do the eggs, and sums for the table, but they always saves the sheet. 

   The sheet you say? Yays, they leekwify it. And then what?  Wells, them farmers pay good money for it.  Calls it or’ganeek.  Oh, organic.  Yeah that’s it.  Sprays the stuff on them there fields. Makes them plaints grow beeg and tall.  Stores sell the stuff to them there grainoler guys

   Well that explains it, he thought.  Their much knackered mother always bought her eggs from a farmer who drove a flatbed truck.  He sold eggs out of the cab in front and chicken manure off the back.  Mother always bought some of each.  We always had the prettiest flower beds on the block, but none of the other kids wanted to play in our yard. They didn’t want to be our friends.  Of course they didn’t