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Heartland
The Heartland. The “Economy starts here” land. The agribusiness and 2nd-amendment-settles-that land. How dare we fly over you?
Once you’ve lived in the Heartland, then, and only then are you prepared to construct a 14,000 word essay on the subject — invoking Heartland at least 468 times.
Luckily for your sorry ass, this isn’t that essay. This tale is about the fallout from a shootout, in 1979, in Iowa, deep in the seat of… The Heartland.
Corn everywhere you look. “What in the goddamn fuck am I doing here?” Ryan angrily thought. He was low-on-the-totem-pole at work and they sent him to the middle of goddamn Iowa.
As Ryan gathered his breath he focused on the positives: The per-diem dominated this poor economy (Ryan’s thoughts, not mine). His big-shot big-wig company doled him 45 dollars-a-day to eat. In New York or Los Angeles, you’re better off buying crack. But in the absolute middle of absolutely fucking nowhere, Iowa? Forty-five dollars goes a looong way.
Ryan smiled at that. He’d hit a greasy diner, with 45 bucks of 1979-cash. Ready to infuse Iowa. Ryan hopped off at the first exit. Soon as he opened his door he could smell waffles and hear the pops of…
