WARNING: NOT SAFE WITH BEVERAGE ANYWHERE NEAR THE KEYBOARD
(Well, the first part anyway)
(Well, the first part anyway)
I am not a shit-kicker
Nor a shit-kicker's son
But I can kick shit
Even if it's sick shit,
Thick shit or slick shit
With horse spit
I won't quit
Because I can kick that shit,
Till' the shit-kickin's done.
Now wasn't that fun?
Listen... (you might want to read the sign at the top again)
(If you don't, you're missing out. But you're going to have to hold on.
Yes, gentle, but firm. )
At the Barbecue
"Had a good laugh? Me too. Could feel it in my ribs"
(Smiles and gets ready for a monologue)
"Now, here's a little story about what some might call a 'cowgirl' or one of them odd 'country folk' who never really spent much time in the city. Naw... not a redneck. That wouldn't translate too well. She was no conservador. Don't know what you'd call her. 'Tough as' comes to mind."
(Picks up one of the two bottles on the table. Takes a swig.)
"But first, you gotta' tell me somethin'... you ever wrassle?"
"Why? Well, cause if you know what the back of a wrassler looks like, you know, the kind you'd find on the mat in high school...the kind you'd hope wouldn't grab a leg before you did..."
(Pauses and waits for a nod or something, looks over to the grill. Turns the ribs and brushes some more of that home-made hickory sauce on...)
"What was I sayin'... oh yeah, wrasserls. The cowgirl-jock had lats any grappler would be proud of. Fact, from bu-hind, you'd almost think she was a guy. What gave away the fact that she wasn't no wrassler when you looked at him...shit... excuse me... I mean her. Looking at her from bu-hind, the thing that lets you know she ain't no wrassler is the length of her mullet. She might have been partying in the back, but that was her business, just like what you seen on her up in front."
(Picks up the other bottle and spits into it)
"Well, she always seemed to have this 'well-how-do-you-do' sort of crook-ed grin on her face that always made me kind of wonder if she wasn't chewing. Never saw her spit though, to tell you the truth. But nobody would 'a been surprised if she did. And no one would 'a held it against her either... heck, none of us dudes would'a held anything against her. Just a funny feeling, you could even call 'queer', that strange feeling that holding anything against her wouldn't a been such a smart thing to do. "
(That sweet smell of all American, corn-fed beef, like they serve at the Black Angus...served with a cattleman's pride... that juicy smell)
"So, C-J, she used to drive one of them Mustangs...no...not the red one, that's a different story.... this one was a cool winter blue. Kind of gave off a toned down feeling even though you knew it could easily get in your face, but mostly didn't. The Mustang was truly what you'd call a muscle car, if only for the pipes on the side. Cowgirl must 'a kept her V8 running pretty well on an account of growin' up in what city-folk might call a 'semi-rural' area. Kept those side pipes nice and clean on her '69. 'Those pipes... wouldn't want to touch em,' she'd say. She's got hot and cool written all over her. All business up front and whatever goes on in the back...well that was her business too, even when she liked to party. 'Always kind of known when to mind your own, ' so the saying goes."
(He winks as some of the fat begins to drip and sizzle...)
"Those fuckin' pipes."
(Stops grinning, starts tapping his snuff can and gets a bit of a serious look on his face now)
Never know when a bit of know-how will come in handy.
"Only one town over...if you call it a town... hell, they have a football team. So, yeah, 'town' works. And their track n' field was legendary 'back in the day'. Well, that town wasn't big enough for the chains. No, mainly family run businesses. Closest thing they had to a convenience store... sold primarily liquor and chew. Okay, and maybe some jerky to the kids, but not like this was anywhere a person would be lettin' their children wander into."
"Now, this is what I heard, from the crew with the lady in the red Mustang, so I believe it. You ready? Okay...okay...I know... you're getting hungry. Hold your horses, just a while longer. Here goes."
"One summer evening when the town was quiet, like it usually is when people stay inside to keep cool... kind of early evening, but sill close enough to the dreaded triple digits, there was a young lady in her Daisy Dukes trying to make a call on the beat-up payphone in front of the Stop-N-Rob. Grab-N-Go. Strip-N-Rip..."
"You know, 'when the warm, dark summer eve is panting down your neck'."
"That kind of primal heat, it brings out the best in some and the worst in others. Only, before she was able to dial her number, an otherwise in-cons-pick-you-us looking pickup truck with tinted windows rolls up. Some guy jumps out, and after his pickup lines don't work, maybe figures no ones lookin', figures 'awe fuck it' and then tries to rape her."
"At least, that's what one of the paramedics is supposed to have thought he heard our Cool Blue Cowgirl telling the police, more or less matter-of-fact-ly and maybe with just a hint of pride."
"No, when they were loading him on, he wasn't screaming."
(Checks the ribs again)
"By then, he was kind of beyond that."
"You see, that wide-girdled, aggressive beast come growling off the highway, slowing down to a low purr... the engine must have been plenty happy and warmed up by then. And when Cowgirl thought she saw a fellow-lady in distress, she closes in before Jackass even has a clue."
(As the lid of the barbecue shuts for the final haul, wanting to get it just right, he imagines the sound of a corral gate latching...)
"They say she came in real quiet, which is hard to understand until you figure out what she was planning on doing. The beauty in the beast."
(Packs the can one last time, the way the gentleman in the video so generously demonstrates in 'Way Number Two', opens it up, pinches a bit, puts it between his cheek and gum...just like they tell you in those old commercials)
"With all the ruckus going on, Pick-up truck thinking he was going to 'get him some', Blue pulls up sideways with her engine still running, growling so low this time you can barely hear it. And before anyone could have said anything, she gets out, leaving the door ajar, leaps over and grabs this guy from behind with one hand, gets a solid grip between the shoulder and neck...yeah, right there, that nice part that feels just like a handle... spins him around and repeatedly jams the palm of her other hand right into his face, one, two, three... Must of done something, 'cause there was blood everywhere. Would of been a heck of a lot more, but... "
(He can't decide whether to sip or spit)
"Whatever happened next wasn't pretty. They say, when the sheriff got there, she was dragging him, 'sort of kicking and sort of screaming' - she was dragging him to lay his face on some hot metal, to 'play the pipes'. Try to bury his face into a modest serving of humble pie, with the oven still kind of on and while the gloves were off."
"Naw, his screams only stopped, along with the sizzle... right after the women he'd thought he was going to get him some from just a moment before... not until she pipped in with something like, 'Please...oh my god...STOP! Just let him go'... oh no, his face, part of it is sticking to the...'"
"Meat Truck said he's never been able to look at a pepperoni piazza quite the same way again, especially after having gotten a wif of that peculiar smell."
(Smells something something sweet almost burning)
"Well, looks like it's about as ready as it gets. Here you go. Oh, don't forget to try some of this cornbread...really good for sopping up the sauce. More beer in the cooler too... he'p yourself."