Thou talks of Nothing.
ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!
PITY PARTY WARNING!
DANGER WILL ROBINSON!
(THIS MEANS YOU!)
And Here is a news flash for you Marcom:
“Golly Gosh, My Lord. I am tryin’ to… but you see…I have been watching this “Game of Thrones” thing on the Television…”
“Never heard of such nonsense.”
“Yes, My Lord. Me neither.”
Now my lawyers are sated.
There was a semi-recent poll taken, right here on this Blog: TT&H, where the question was broached.
“What should I write about?”
Well, after so many hanging chaffs and invalid voting boxes, and I do not know how many “Landslide Lyndons” we experienced, the tally was tallied:
Someone voted for a Peanut Story.
Just so happens, I had one in my hip pocket. (I carry it about, you see? Just for occasions such as this)
I do believe the year was 1994, give or take. (10 years)
I was in a bad spot with my then-wife and my Girl-Friend who soon, someday soon, I hoped to become my next-wife.
Nevermind her name; this is irrelevant. After a few… well.
I was in this bad spot, you see. And I needed a flat-bed truck (for whatever reason), you see?
Now, the only one in possession of same was Peanut.
You see? (Because Peanut was always the one who did not ask questions, you see?) And why was that? Because I was also the only one who never asked.
Being poor of money and poor’er of excuse, I told my bride: “Honey, we need to see this man about a truck. Then we can get on with our lives.”
“Okay,” she said.
Off we went, she in her pretty sun-dress and me, looking for flatbed trucks in all them wrong places.
And then, after about eight miles of Bad Texas Road, we came upon a tree across the road you see, and a madman with a shotgun, you see; this madman was shooting at this young girl, you see, and this was embarrassing to me, you see, since the man wielding the shotgun could not hit shit, .. and his aim was lousy you see? And of course the girl was out of range, you see, and it did not matter to me, you see?
BECAUSE My Brother, PEANUT would never shoot an innocent girl on the wing.
You must have seen that coming.
Oh, that ‘other’ guy?
That Guy shooting at that girl?
What did we do with him?
Well, turns out, that was Peanut.
I had to forgive him. The girl was not harmed and I missed my brother.
Thus it ended….
I cannot write this.
Sorry. It has become rare that I just throw up a rough draft, you see?
(Yes, I know: they are all rough drafts)
This one may have some promise, however, since, like all Things Peanut, it is true.
Caint you see?
“And being thus disquieted…”
Not unlike Pygmalion, as the years fly by, I create.
I cannot ‘create’ the woman I love. Not because she does not exist, but because, I do not want to embarrass her.
Yet, she is real and she loves me: since 1971.
She told me so.
Now…..five wives later….My wives.
(I should have never left her to fend.
oh no! I had to go to fuckn egypt for five fuckin years!)
Is just a fucking word.
Hell! It is not even a word for a life lost.
“His only aspiration…. was getting back that girl he lost before.”
But.. what to do with? As a dog chasing a train? What is he gonna do, if he catches it?
These are the eternal questions.
Nothing seems to keep you high.
Who could have?