When I was in 3nd grade my father, who was in the air force, was transferred to Iceland. There wasnt much going on there other than a bunch of frost, a couple feet of snow, and black volcanic rock. Overall, it sucked, /b/. My sister and I didnt find playing outside very intriguing, as you can imagine, since we couldnt even have our bikes. Living in the tiny apartment were afforded by the air force with my father, mother, and younger sister day after day fucking sucked. Its no surprise that after less than half a year, my mom decided it would be better to pack me and my sister up and head back to the U.S. We moved to Louisiana, near Alexandria, since all my moms family lived there. After a couple weeks of my grandparents, my mom finally moved the three of us into our own apartment.
This is where the real story begins.
The apartment we moved into was rent controlled and in a predominately black neighborhood (were white, btw). That was no big deal, really. Both of my parents are white trash, so its not like we give a shit what colour people are. But, as you can imagine, the neighborhood wasnt very good, in general, but we were poor and didnt really care as long as there was running water, electricity, and bars on the window (all of which we had). During the middle our first day there, we heard gun shots go off in the distance and police sirens were constantly going off nearby, something which we tuned out with the radio.