Dead Rights Party XIII e

It was in this cactus-enhanced seraglio that the candidate’s father, Orville Slack III, aka Père Slack, was begotten from a pool of English/Oriental/ Hispanic/Indian/black/French/faux-Mormon genes. His birthmother Matty was a woman of industry who both believed in and implemented the American dream. Not long after her entrance into the abovementioned ménage-a-trois, she insisted that her swain improve their circumstances by moving from the foul-smelling sod hut w/ fossil-stocked basement to a shed at the center of the town that was destined to become the renowned Slackville, then in the no-man’s-land adjoining Texas and Oklahoma. How she bankrolled this exchange has yet to be ascertained. All that is publicly known is that after giving birth to Père Slack, she skipped town with a Bible-toting circuit-riding migratory Methodist minister of the Gospel who peddled copies of the venerable Shankara’s eighth-century commentary on the Bhaghava-Gita, as well as armadillo-armored firkins of spirits, on the side. Not long after this scandalous skedaddle, it should be noted, Sacajawea II yielded to her inbred wanderlust and, one night, hopped astride the family steed and, leaving father and son to fend for themselves, headed north and west to sample the Nez Perce experience.