Most coming-of-age stories are fraught with symbolism, hidden metaphors, and a heaping mound of other literary devices. Not this one. Not mine. You see, I came of age while working at a dusty Texas feed store. A place where To Kill a Mockingbird involved a 12-year-old and a BB gun. Of Mice and Men was a problem easily solved with rat poison. And David Copperfield, nothing more than a dude that made shit disappear.
The Feedstore Chronicles is a mostly true account of my education amongst murderous ex-wives, a well-hung bulldog, and feed room fornication.
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