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The Official Newspaper of Stinky Creek, Texas |
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The Official Newspaper of Stinky Creek, Texas |
Howdy!
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I'm Just a Guy Let’s engage in some meaningless small talk. I’ll start by saying something totally cliché and you respond appropriately. Of course, I must tell you that I’m not going to listen to a word you say. Instead, I’ll be thinking of something totally different and will change the subject when you’re finished. Then again, I may not even wait until you’re finished. Are you ready? Here we go. Boy, it’s starting to warm up a bit, isn’t it? I myself prefer cold weather. I once slept in a tent when it was 18 degrees outside just to be able to say I did it. Of course, you can’t do that with a cheap tent and sleeping bag. Nosirree! You have to have the expensive stuff and hope “the boss” doesn’t find out how much you spent on it. I know – you want to know how I got away with buying the top-dollar stuff. Well, let me tell you: I got away with it by saying I was in training to climb Mount Everest. Of course, I wasn’t sure at first if the Everest story would work, so I had a “Plan B” just in case. “Plan B” stated that I needed the equipment for an expedition to Antarctica to study Emperor Penguins. I was pretty positive that story would work (everybody loves penguins), but luckily I didn’t have to use it. And what kinds of food would I take on an expedition to Antarctica? I’m not exactly sure, but I guarantee I would never go anywhere without several jumbo-size bags of Peanut M&Ms. I could eat Peanut M&Ms all day. There’s something about those almost-round, multi-colored blobs of chocolate-covered nuts that I just cannot resist. I once ate an entire 10-pound bag of Peanut M&Ms at one sitting and didn’t even realize it until they were all gone and I wasn’t quite feeling well. After several days of rehab, I was better – but the craving is still there. Once a Peanut M&M junkie, always a Peanut M&M junkie. Sled dogs would probably love Peanut M&Ms, but it’s best not to give them any. And how do I know this? Because I used to be a card-carrying member of the North American Sled Dog Association. I didn’t exactly have a sled dog, or a sled, but that’s beside the point. I had the North American Sled Dog Association Membership Card, and that meant I was in the club. Speaking of buying things on credit (which we weren’t, but I might as well bring it up now because I just put a gazillion dollars worth of camping equipment on my Master Card), I was thinking about having my body cryogenically frozen when I died. Maybe in a thousand years someone will come along, wake me up and cure me of whatever killed me (unless it was being hit by a truck, then I guess I’m just out of luck). But if I’m going to be held responsible for a thousand years of interest on a gazillion dollars of credit card debt, them I’m having none of it. Just box me up and drop me in a hole. Some people prefer to be cremated instead of buried, but I haven’t made up my mind yet. There’s something to be said for being placed in the ground from which we came. But having my ashes exploded in a fireworks display has its appeal, too. Either that or maybe I could have my ashes painted into a portrait of myself. My kids would hate it, but Aunt Edna in El Paso would hang it over her fireplace until the day she died. And then it would probably be bought in an estate sale for $3.95. What a testament about my life. Here one day, gone the next, and not even worth the price of a Happy Meal. Does that sound like I feel sorry for myself? I certainly hope not. I can’t complain about my life. I’ve bought expensive camping equipment, I’ve hobnobbed with sled dog racers, and I’ve eaten more than my share of Peanut M&Ms (not plain chocolate, not peanut butter, and certainly not toffee M&Ms – but 100 percent Peanut M&Ms). All in all my life has been pert near perfect. Now, what were we talking about? That’s right, the weather. Boy, it’s starting to warm up a bit, isn’t it? |
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The Daily Spittoon is an independently owned rural newspaper. |
