In the scheme of society, housing is a fun-daa-mental necessity. People need to live somewhere other than under bridges. The American Dream consists of having a loving family and living under 1 large, lavish castle roof in order to hide from their immediate genealogy. Also included in this master plan is acreage, mountains of it, so the neighbors don’t hear the screams of the dys-fun-tionals known as the nuclear family. To attain this goal, either a lifetime of skilled labor by 2 parents working around the clock can get the financial means to afford the mortgage for this monstrosity, or incorporating an extremely rare commodity known as a trust fund baby. As the vast majority of AAMericans were not born the latter, and do not have the energy to perform the former, they end up residing in metallic, horizontal teepees known as trailer homes. These rectangular cigars of frugal living include a whopping 2,000 square feet of land with 240 sq. ft. of luxurious living space, where hall sex takes place daily. As the 2 parents pass each other in the 30″ wide hallway, they both grunt out the words, “FUCK YOU!” Outside is enough space to throw 2 defective refrigerators, 1 ringer washer, 3 junker cars, including an old Nash and 14 garbage bags of empty beer cans: their 1 and only financial asset. The 4 lawn chairs are for when company comes in the summer. They were invited over to help feed the mosquitoes that were bothering the residing royalty. With alcohol and roasted rats, the only thing on the menu, its party till you fry or die, every day. In time, this extravagant, sardine living with neighbors 4′ away, will reach a peak and the local coroner will be called to do a postmortem examination. Once the toe tag is affixed through the nose because numerous toes have been shot off over the years, the fun-eral director shows up to take the alcohol sterilized body off to the stone trailer park (the local cemetery) just down the lane in a quite picturesque setting.