Poor White Trash Haiku

Wherein our intrepid author frets mightily over pagination styles in OpenOffice, all the while doing his best to keep Lester and Squirrel occupied haiku hunting until real hunting season arrives. One more run-in with the local constabulary, and Squirrel is gonna be cleaning out the State's ditches for a very long time, especially since that unfortunate incident on the bridge that left him with a DUI on that moped. Of course, being dead and all has help a lot with keeping Squirrel out of trouble. Meanwhile, I feel compelled to point out that, even with Squirrel still dead, the rum remains in short supply. I'm not sure the State can sell it fast enough for this crowd, even if they do tend to make more than they buy, but we won't go much into that either. And we're still looking for that better parking at the beach, off towards Ocracoke, there towards the southern end where the GSM signal is better, the rum more plentiful, and the view of the Spanish Main just off to the left in the far distance.