Released on January 25, 1983 on the Epic record label "Reasons To Quit" was written by the Country Music Legend Merle Haggard. "Reasons To Quit" was performed as a Duet by him and fellow Country Music Legend Willie Nelson as the Lead Single from their Pancho & Lefty Album.

"Reasons To Quit" reached the Number Six position on the Billboard Hot Country Singles And Tracks chart.

Some pertinent lyrics from "Reasons To Quit" include:

"So we keep smokin' and we keep drinkin'
Havin' fun and never thinkin'
Laughin' at the price tag that we pay"

"And the reason to quit
Don't outnumber all the reasons why"


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MY TONE OF VOICE AT A FEVER-PITCHED EMOTION BECAUSE OF BEING MANHANDLED, I ROLLED MY EYES AND DEMANDED, "Let go of me you doppleganger toads!" I had just recently learned the meaning of the word.

Forcefully dragged between the two henchmen toward our predetermined destination, I grew bolder with each step and struggled to free myself from their grasps. This failure resulted in digging my heels into the floor. I slow-walked in an effort to halt the parade. My languid movements, and deliberate lethargy, could not have turned around the Titanic, or kept the famous ship from careening into the dreaded iceberg that doomed the vessel. The henchmen yanked my arms harder. This certification of pulled muscles increased the discomfort I felt and caused me to comply with their wishes. We inched forward.

Braggadocious, with an empty air of swagger, I told them, "Let King Tubbo rattle on. That's all he ever does. It means nothing."

My comment drew no response from my escorts. We crossed the foyer of Hermitage Hall. A new photograph of King Tubbo adorned the near wall. I read the inscription underneath the portrait of him decked out in his fancy white suit and laughed out loud.

The plaque's brass-plated engraving stated, "Superintendent Gail McClellan, the State of Tennessee Orphanage Director of the Year." The plate's clean-edged appearance indicated a high quality burin had been used to produce the design of the lettering.

Since my return I had paid no attention to the piece of homage and asked, "When did he receive that recognition?"

Henchman Tobias let slip, "The night of his Summer Solstice Ball. If you had not run away you would have watched him receive the award."

We entered King Tubbo's office without knocking. He sat in stoic contemplation that appeared to be on the situation at hand behind his big, expensive, and expansive desk awaiting my arrival. I attempted to read the emotions his stiff body language radiated. A near blank expression displayed on his face and screamed I would not get into a close chumminess with him. No balloons or cakes welcomed me back to Hermitage Hall, so I figured there would be no party. The oversight was mox nix to me. His two cronies seated themselves in upholstered recliners, complete with ergonomic foot rests, along the near wall. They did not hold the same rank in the Hermitage Hall hierarchy, but they were truly three of a kind.

King Tubbo's glare strong, and his mind set hard, his steely eyes cut to a black, high-backed chair in front of his desk. "Sit down, while you still can."

Its meteoric repulsive overtone characterized by an intense apprehension, I honed in on the abominable thickness of the atmosphere that filled the room. Soiled by accumulated sticky residue substances, a besmeared, transparent ash pot contained the burnt end of a thick, roll-your-own, blunt. Its thin, round, and crisp rice paper wrapper easy to recognize.

An irritating smart-ass, and wannabe know everything, I almost asked him, "What did you strengthen the wrappers with?"

I heard somewhere tapioca made them thinner and more glutinous, while salt made them dry and elastic. Somehow, I kept my otherwise big mouth shut and observed King Tubbo insert the tip of the Fat Boy between his lips by roach clip metal tweezers.

Obviously not a beginner, without allowing the smoke to fill his mouth, King Tubbo sucked it down inside his lungs. He removed the blunt from between his watermelon-sized labiums and took a quick breath. A couple seconds thereafter, he released the smoke and air from his lungs then repeated the process. We all knew he possessed several addictions. This isolated incident became the only time I witnessed this particular obsession firsthand.

I noticed he did not puff away in rapid succession like most cigarette smokers did. The aroma of the burning weed nauseated me. I about ejected the contents of my stomach on King Tubbo just for malice. The intentional desire to disregard his wellbeing rankled inside me.

Thus was the counterculture of the 1970s. Tie-dye, acid, mushrooms, and marijuana hallmarked the decade I lived in at the time. The popularity of getting high was mostly a protest against the Viet Nam War.

These disenchantments included "Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?"

This popular slogan was chanted almost every time the 36th President of the United States publicly appeared. Though I have never done illegal drugs of any nature, sans underaged alcohol consumption, watching King Tubbo waste his life away smoking a joint did not impress me.

Cruel chastisement her malicious, violent intent the Reform School strap unaffectionately known as Big Bertha hung on a peg in the wall behind King Tubbo. Fourteen inches long, and half an inch wide, she possessed a hickory handle for a firmer grip. Hermitage Hall remained absent from strong outside oversight. On many horrific occasions Big Bertha had been employed on boys unable to defend themselves from her torturous assault. This created lasting impressions of injustices rendered.

As he looked up from a notepad on top of his desk, steam billowed out King Tubbo's ears, circled upwards, and created what appeared to be fierce pointed horns on top of his bald cranium. Taken ghastly aback, the rancorous serpent's repugnancy spewed forth. His macabre, astonishing tirade of criticisms, and accusations of what he considered my personal shortcomings and offenses, thundered.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

In Chapter Nineteen, King Tubbo and I cross swords.