They say there’s a fine line between genius and insanity.

The insanity, well, DeWayne got that honest. There ain’t no laws against the ‘mentally challenged’ reproducing, so Bertha and Elmer Roach had twelve young ’uns, none of them right in the head. But DeWayne, the last one, well, he was different alright.

DeWayne Roach never learned to get to the outhouse before shittin’ himself. But he could build and play a twelve-string guitar. His smarts sure wasn’t from book learning. McDowell County, West Virginia never heard of ‘No Child Left Behind.’ There was no place in school for the Roach clan.

DeWayne spent his days wanderin’ around touchin’ stuff. He figured things out by feelin’ em, pickin’ em up and turnin’ em around. One day I caught him in my shed, touchin’ my can of kerosene. I tole him, ‘Git outta there, retard! Yore gonna ketch something on far!”

When the smoke cleared, there weren’t nothing left but a smoldering pile of timbers. And DeWayne standin’ there, covered in soot, hands blistered, grinning.

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