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About Florence

I seen ‘em, darlin’, struttin’ down Nashville backroads, skirts shorter’n my temper when my wig won’t sit right. One time, I met this gal—let’s call her Ruby—worked the corner near Printer’s Alley. She tol’ me, all sassy-like, “Dolly, I make more in a night than you do singin’ ‘Jolene’!” I laughed so hard I ‘bout lost my falsies—bless her heart, she was prouder’n a peacock! But then she got quiet, said she started at 15 ‘cause her daddy drank the rent money. Made me madder’n a wet hen—how’s a kid s’posed to climb outta that hole?

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After that, I step out for a breather. I stroll down to the Adda River. It’s beautiful there, you know? The water’s glistening, and I can see the old bridge. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the stress. But then, I see this kid on a bike, totally wiping out. He crashes right into a bush! I can’t help but laugh. Poor kid, but man, that was hilarious.

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