Everynobody.com

. . .

U-Haul Rental and Moving.

That's right. The rental agreement between yourself and U-Haul initiates a breakdown in human forward evolutionary movement. I am still fighting the effects today, but it still might be too late for me. Allow me to expand further, please, so that the same fate may not befall you.

So, this past weekend was the weekend that we were moving. I know, it was a Memorial Day 3-day weekend, but that was how our cookie crumbled. Regardless, I picked up the U-Haul truck on Friday evening. After signing the related documents, I climbed inside the cab and immediately noticed a difference in my appearance. My hair instantly became unkempt. The collared shirt from the GAP I had worn to the office was instantly replaced with a pit stained wife beater. The musty odor of old dog hair that clung to the upholstery did not seem to bother me, and I suddenly found myself smoking a generic cigarette despite the fact I had no tobacco products prior to assuming the driver's position. Some force exterior to my own free-will was altering my genetic make-up, but it was about to get a lot worse.

Upon arriving home Naomi and Nick were packing some final kitchen items such as some silverware and wine glasses. However, Naomi was no longer wrapping the delicate glass in paper and placing them into their respective labeled boxes. She had already regressed to a point where she was just tossing the items into vacant spaces and writing in bold cap letters "OUR FUCKING SHIT" on the box's exterior. The move had already begun to take its toll on her as well. I mean, I had known that moving is probably the worst thing that anybody can go through, but I had no idea it could affect our DNA composition. At least I was not aware of that until Naomi looked at me said, "Well, if we finish moving, you can't go to the truck-pull without your shoes on." To my surprise my shoes had been replaced with my bare feet blacked from walking on the asphalt. And, wait, we were going to a truck-pull?

I knew it then. We had already evolved backwards into the form of White Trash Man.

In retrospect, I know we should have stopped at this point, but we needed to finish moving, so I pressed onward. We loaded the truck, drove to the new house, and began to unload our belongings. During this step in the moving process, I recall seeing several cases of Milwaukee's Best appearing in a stacked formation in the kitchen that were not in the house prior to us arriving again, but I thought nothing of it at the time.

After what felt like several hours of intense furniture and box unloading, we were complete and the truck was empty. Nevertheless, things still seemed incomplete since I could not locate any of the items I recalled transporting into the house. For instance, upon a quick investigation I discovered the living room coffee table, which I clearly recalled placing in front of the long couch, had been replaced with an empty, old, wooden industrial wire reels tipped sideways. The scented candle we purchased when perusing some downtown San Francisco shops had been replaced with a bottle of ‘Ripple’. However, what was most disheartening was Naomi was now sitting in front of it eating a bowl of frosting with her bare hands sporting a new ripped halter top with the words "God Don't Make No Trash!" emblazoned across her now exposed chest.

"Jesus!" I exclaimed as my pace quickened across the room in order to investigate further. "Naomi, where the hell did you . . .fuck, why the hell are you eating frosting out of a bowl?!!"

She quickly snapped, "Well, it ain't like its for me. It's for our baby.", upon completing her statement she scooped a right handful of vanilla frosting and gently pat her now bulbous belly.

The room suddenly seemed to grow in size and my thoughts felt as though they were surfacing from a darkened pool.

"You're pregnant!!!! But how? How could you be so far along already?!" This request was frivolous though, because I already knew the answer. It was the move and that damned, dirty U-Haul truck!

This was the last straw. I could no longer maintain my composure and allow my life to sucked into a world of hoping for Mamma’s Family re-runs. I slowly staggered backwards and then quickly spun around on my heels in order to race back to the U-haul and return it and somehow slow down the transformation that we were enduring. I jumped into the truck and blasted down the road toward the U-Haul lot with my contract in hand. Even then, as I reflect on that moment, I think I knew then that it was too late for us. The signs were all there. I decided to play with fire and now I was going to get burned. We had already assumed the form of Hillbilly man.

Now, I do not know if you have had the luxury of driving onto a U-Haul lot, but there is no place more white trash in the world (excluding most air shows, monster-truck anything, destruction derbies, most of North Carolina, and anywhere someone thinks an evening is drinking homemade alcohol out of jam jars). When you pull into a U-Haul lot, you could quite conceivably perform this action at 75 miles an hour, with Jack Daniels spewing from both sides of your mouth, a partially naked crank addicted prostitute screaming for the police out the passenger window, blasting "Sweet Home Alabama", in reverse and they will undoubtedly initiate the conversation with "Did you fill up the tank first, sir?"

I'm just kidding they would never say 'sir'.

Regardless, back to what I saying, after performing the demeaning the steps of trying to communicate with a sales clerk who was under the impression that he was indeed the son of God (as indicated by his name tag which read quite clearly "Jesus") that I needed to return this U-Haul before I reverted completely down the evolutionary ladder, I quickly returned to my new home.

As I slowly stepping through the front stoop, everything seemed as though it had stabilized. Naomi had not increased in pregnancy and there were no new individuals sporting overalls, drinking and or hooting aloud. In fact, momentarily everything seemed calm. That was until I heard a voice from behind me;

"We're going raftin' on the river! Let's roll."

I had completed the journey fully. I had become, rafting man. Spare yourself and never move again!