On the way to town this morning, I saw a dead armadillo in the road. They don't flatten out like possums. During my youth, you would have been laughed out of town if you told the kids on the bus that you saw a dead armadillo.
"Yeah, right. Where do you think we are, Arizona?"
"Ha ha. You must be blind."
"Armadillos don't come up here, stupid!"
"You wouldn't know an armadillo if it bit you on the a$$!"
"What are you gonna do, write a song about it? 'Dead armidillo in the middle of the road; dead armadillo in the middle of the road; dead armadillo in the middle of the road, stinkin' to high heaven!' "
Ahh. Simpler times. Colder times, perhaps.