Short Ghost Story As Told To Me By The Clerk At Cumberland Farms

1:30 AM, Cumberland Farms, North Amherst, MA

Yeah, Lynrd Skynrd? Racist hicks. They’re my brother’s favorite. The music is like this but then. . .he had this girlfriend who loved them. Freebird was her favorite song. And then later when she was killed and we had to go to her funeral, as we drove to the grave, we were listening to this whole other song and then suddenly Freebird came on over the car radio. It was like. . .

I mean, that’s something.


  1. Aww…. now i’m nostalgic for Cumberland Farms. In the upstate New York town where i grew up, the parking lot of CF ranked with empty cow fields and vans down by the river as the best places for teenagers to get wasted and start trouble on cold lonely nights. I seem to recall that Lynyrd Skynyrd, or something equally revolting, was always playing from somebody’s truck or from the radio behind the counter… on account of my town being full of racist hicks.

    Now i’m not nostalgic anymore.

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