Your southern zodiac signs and sound advice

by

1. The Biscuit

Aries: March 21 – April 19

Hot-headed, fast-rising, and full of flavor. Might crumble under pressure but always comes back buttered up and better.

Tagline: Soft heart. Hard crust. Always served warm.

⸻

2. The Mason Jar

Taurus: April 20 – May 20

Stubborn, steady, and holds everything from peaches to secrets. Looks cute on a shelf but don’t drop it.

Tagline: Preserving peace and peach jam since birth.

⸻

3. The Front Porch

Gemini: May 21 – June 20

Two rocking chairs. One you. Half gossip, half philosopher. Can’t sit still but loves a good breeze.

Tagline: Where tea gets spilled and stories grow legs.

⸻

4. The Kudzu

Cancer: June 21 – July 22

Clings fast, loves hard, and grows where it’s not supposed to. Protective as a grandma and twice as watchful.

Tagline: Wraps around your heart before you notice.

⸻

5. The Catfish

Leo: July 23 – August 22

Glittery, slippery, and always shining. You’ll talk bad ‘til you taste the flavor.

Tagline: A little flashy. A little fried. Always the catch of the day.

⸻

6. The Sweet Tea

Virgo: August 23 – September 22

Sweet but strong, calm but caffeinated. Organized, opinionated, and best served cold in a crisis.

Tagline: Stirs quietly hits loudly.

⸻

7. The Porch Swing

Libra: September 23 – October 22

Balanced, charming, and occasionally squeaky. Loves attention but plays it cool. Romantic with a breeze.

Tagline: Smooth moves and sideways glances.

⸻

8. The Possum

Scorpio: October 23 – November 21

Silent until it strikes. Plays dead, but don’t fall for it. Looks scruffy fights dirty.

Tagline: Not dead. Just thinking.

⸻

9. The Fire Ant

Sagittarius: November 22 – December 21

Wild, nomadic, and a little mean when provoked. Builds empires underground. Don’t step wrong.

Tagline: Small. Savage. Strategic.

⸻

10. The Waffle House

Capricorn: December 22 – January 19

Runs 24/7. Shows up when others break down. Stoic, sacred, and slightly chaotic inside.

Tagline: Holy ground with hashbrowns.

⸻

11. The Tractor

Aquarius: January 20 – February 18

Slow. Powerful. Revolutionary. Old soul with modern dreams. Doesn’t follow roads, makes them.

Tagline: Rusty wisdom. Steel will.

⸻

12. The Deviled Egg

Pisces: February 19 – March 20

Cute and creamy with unexpected kick. Artistic, dramatic, and absolutely necessary at every gathering.

Tagline: Don’t trust the garnish, this one’s got bite.

thanks, Mandy!

friday firesmith – the zombie

by

“I want to be a cocaine dealer,” Greg said. It’s not that I asked Greg what he wanted to be when he grew up, but we were both in our twenties, and we were both working as kitchen help at Shoney’s. I had my doubts about Greg’s ideas towards career change, but I didn’t say anything to him.

The next day he didn’t show up for work. I did not attribute his disappearance to his new life as a wealthy drug dealer who was living on the beach with supermodels.

Greg did buy some cocaine, and he sold cocaine, so yeah, somehow he got his toe in the door, but he started doing more cocaine than he sold, and then he started doing crack.

He was behind on rent, bills, and he started stealing from his roommates so they kicked him out. Greg set his bed up in the yard and slept there for a few days. It was surreal to see a man in a bed in a yard but that was how it happened. Then it rained hard one day, and Greg started living under the overpass at Exit 16.

Greg would haunt the people he once knew, but he would steal anything he could. And ex-girlfriend named Susan let him stay in her parents garage, and it wasn’t a bad set up. He had a cot and access to hot and cold water, and a bathroom. Someone called Susan’s mother the next day and asked her if she was having a yard sale, and Greg had taken Susan’s mom’s belongings and was selling them in the front yard. They got there before any of the good jewelry was sold but they lost a toaster over and some smaller stuff.

So Greg was officially not living anywhere after that. None of us had anything to do with him, and he drifted away. He would come back to Valdosta, and I would see him at one of the Exits, but until I saw Susan at the Y one day, and told her I had seen him, I didn’t think twice about it. Susan sent me with her husband, Jim, who hated me and Greg both to look for Greg. We didn’t find him, but a man who will go out looking for his wife’s ex boyfriend to help him get off drugs is a damn hero in my book. That was ten years ago.

So yesterday I thought I saw Greg. No. I am sure it was him. He was at Exit 16, just like he always was.

But a few years ago his bones were found in a wooded area near I-75 and returned to his parents. Id-ed via dental.

I’m not sure what to do with this one.

Take Care,

Mike