AUNTIE CAROL MEETS CATFISH JOE

AUNTIE CAROL MEETS CATFISH JOE.

Darlings, I have the most amazing story to report . I met this stupendous character, Catfish Joe, a West Philly Ikon. I was standing at the Skukyll River throwing white roses into its murky green depths and crying my eyes out. Of course, I had this “mad” red sun bonnet on and I fancied no one would notice my agony.. MY doctor told me I had polyps in my, dare I say it,, my colon and would need an operation. Oh, Heavens , cancer at forty-two. They had not determined they were malign but just wanted to remove them annyhoo. My insides would look like Swiss cheese, no doubt.

I would leave behind my wonderful , husband Herman Sherman- Emma Enigma. Herman is a hermaphrodite for those of you who aren’t “in the know. But that is another story. And let us not forget, my other close friends, Lady Lynda, my friend and co-writer of this Blog, The Fabulous Black Orchid, an immortal ,and the every lusty and sassy, Wanda Lust.

Anny hoo, I saw this black man standing beside me. out of my peripheral visison, and he seemed to eminate power. He was tall, rawboned and had about him a sense of assurance and a horrible scar going down his left cheek., He wore khakis and a white tee shirt like a workman. I was not inclined to speak to him

Hello, Ma’am you seem to be sorrowin’ ‘bout somethin’. Ol Catfish Joe be at yo’ service.,” He said. And pot his hand lightly on my shoulder.

“What do you know, you don’t have cancer? I raised my voice. “You’re just a stranger!”

“Ol Joe aint no stranger to those in trouble. Talk to me all bout’ it “ he said. His voice was low and very manly.

I broke down into tears and he held me gently in his arms saying comforting things.
“I gone tell ya some shit, Pardon my French. Lotsa people survive cancer and I betcha don’ really know if it’s cancer. You is just thinking the worst.”

How’d you know that?” I said.

“Cause the hand of death don’t look like he laying it on you. You got q bloom on ya’ kind of like a garden rose. You aint all gray and drawn.”

“Lookikng and being are too different things, “ I replied.

“My Lady, Ol’ Joe got second sight and I sho’ don’t see the “Angel of Death” hanging ‘round youj,” he said.

“I don’t believe in second sight, “ I replied.

Old Joe just laid his hands on me and I felt the warmth emanating from his hands and when I looked in his eyes they were old, wizened and had a glow about them. I had to admit his touch made me feel better.

“Ya feels it don ya. I aint no faith healer but the Lord do work through me time and agin’ I be a lay preacher and my pulpit is anywhere I’m needed..”

“Thank you, Joe, I’m Auntie Carol. People call me “auntie” because I’m always in people’s business.” I said and laughed.

“Meddlesome people is the best kind cuz’ they care. Now what you gone do about Big C?”

“I’m going to fight it and get the surgery and spit in the eye of death. Like you’d want , Joe,” I said.

“With Hope in your heart you can do anything, Honey. Ya might want to come to my Sermons by the River, East River Drive on Saturdays at Ten, The Prof got me lecturin’ to his students. Ya see I audits classes at Renn. The mind jes’ like a tract of Land. God want you to plant somethin’ on it,”

We all went to see his sermon and The Black Orchid tried her magic on him, her sensual musk, on Old Joe but he merely said in the great words of Ray Charles, “I gotta women way over town and she’s good to me,” He called her Etta, , his Earth Angel. The Black Orchid sauntered away casually and said, “You know, Joe, I never fail. I’m not through with you yet.”

To which Old Joe said, “OH, Lord Mercy, I got powerful temptation on me now. I aint no sleep around kinda’ guy. When Ya got cake at home ya’ don’t rob nobody’s cupboard.”

He held all us girls in his arms and said, “God be with ya, ladies,” and ‘specially, you, Black Orchid which cause her to lay a cat scratch on his neck. “I’m old as Medusa, don’t try that God shit on me.”

“God loves you, too Darlin ‘. Ya needs him as much as any serial killer. No, don’ scratch Ol’ Joe agin” Or He gon turn ya over his knee and give yo’ ass a whoppin’ Don’ test me , Bitch. You aint got no bidness wit Ol’ Joe.” The Black Orchid merely stuck her tongue out at him, asnd shook her boadacious ass at him,.

“You be a wrongun’ Lady, but I likes yo’ nerve, Ya needs to be takin’ down a peg or too. After All God fashioned Eve outa Adam’s Rib. I gone sanctify you in no impossible way. It may take time but gone to be done, it is.”

The Black Orchid smiled and sucked on one of her fingers seductively.
“What that a white man’s penis. Betcha used to that. You make Ol’ Joe show his mean side, Gurl. Ol’ Joe wasn’t always a preacher, ladies. I was a man of the World once.”

“Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda were shocked, while Wanda Lust looked on. The truth be told Wanda was afraid of preachers though she had never met one like Joe. In Fact no one has ever seen anyone like Joe.

SEE CATFISH JOES & DOUBLE, DOUBLE, DOUBLE, TOIL & TROUB LE BY CAROL ANN @ GOOGLE .COM

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NOT YETtassell

NOT YET

“Hi, Y’all, this be Ol’ Wanda Lust, Crack Ho’. I aint seen my girls, Auntie Carol, Lady Lynda, & the Black Orchid in some time. We gots to have a git together for summer Soltice.. I know we gone have a Pajama Party and between me and the Black Orchid, we gone gross Auntie and Lynda out. Them two, probably come in long flannel nighties. While me in the Orchid Gone come in crotchless painties and push up bras wid’ tassels on ‘em. Only the Orchid is mo’ Victoria Secret and I be straight up Fredericks of Hollywood. You know painties with “eat me” on the crotch. I think it kinda funny. Them gals is both kinda’ kinky but get them out of the bedroom and they is straight up fifties. No sex befo’ the weddin’ day, no drinkin’ and smokin’ and they wear them white prissy gloves all the time and little straw hats. I tell ya they is in a time warp. They gone request wine spritzers, I Jes’. know it. And only have one.

I loves the shit outa’ my Girls., And The Black Orchid is the closet thing to a Goddess I know. It done make no difference she aint got no tits, she sexy like hell fire. Speakin’ of sexy, I aint no slouch in that department. I got o n my silver halter top and a stone in my belly button, a real emerald, black leather micro mini, red fish net hose and thigh high boot s like a fuckin’ pirate. People tell me in the right light I looks like Dianna Ross. True Dat!

“I got dreams like hellfire. I got dreams to make a man cry. No meek, sweet lil’ dishrag and sop up yo’ mess, me. Mens gste to thinkin’ a woman ought to treat a man like a lil’ chile.’ Give him the sugar tit all the time. I gives Ol’ Fat Harold my bitterness and fire to cause him to make hisself a success, He write like a damn angel, poems so sweet and poignant. I sez to him you retired but you talented. So I sez I gone kick his ass less he write a poem a day and boy does I give him hell.

“Discipline is life. Ya gots to be disciplined to keep the body healthy and the mind strong.I know people think Ho’s be ashamed of theyselves. But I AM AN ARTISTE in readin ’what a man want even be fo’ he know hisself. Sometimes I be his mother and other times I be the Bitch from Hell who never git’ enuff, I usually know what he need befo’ he know hisself.

“Lord, Lord. Today after I got offa’ work, Fat Harold came in wid’ three poems he done do that day and they was so beautiful I bawled my eyes out. They be kinda’ dark and beautiful. Noir he call it. What he write he never show in life. He sweet jes/ like peach cobbler I loves a sweet man And I thank God I got him. He don’ mind that I likes my independence and won’t let thim support me I be forty next month and know I got to git off the street. Maybe I be a Madame in a Ho’ house or like the girl’s suggest, a drug and alcohol counselor. I’d have to kick my coke habbit. No way it gone be easy. No way. Sho’, I aint proud of it and know I gotta’ quit But not jes’ yet, Not jes.yet….Bye, Y’all, Stay tune to the Wanda show, Ya heah?.

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Lady Lynda Fondly Recalls Aunt Mz. Eula Mae’s Profound Sayings.

Lady Lynda Mae Hofenfetter Toze in her flannel carnation pink nightgown sat lounging in her powder blue velveteen lounge chair. She fondly remembered her great aunt Mz Eula Mae’s profound wisdom. She fanned herself with a paper fan as she constantly brushed her honey blonde hair out of her blue and green eyes.
” Ah yes I still remember my great aunt Mz Eula mae telling me her wise old sayings. They were so witty and so original. I still recall when she told me Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” Sure saved me a dickens in weight loss books. “Don’t let the tail wag the dog.” That was her way of how to train a dog. She was so succinct in her practical advice.
Speaking of pets she told every dog has a few fleas. It was her way of telling me no dog is perfect. She sure wasn’t kosher. Some of her favorite expressions were go hog wild, go whole hog and he was as happy as a greased pig.”

“I still recall my colorful old aunt telling me some folks are like two peas in a pod. Of course she was referring to identical twins. Folks should mend fences. They sure arn’t going to mend themselves. Mending fences is great work to keep fit. Hard workers these days she’d tell me were as scarce as hens teeth. I never knew hens had teeth. Such a bird as my auntie would so wittily express it, be a sight for sore eyes. Bet if she saw such a fowl she’d exclaim that takes the cake. Ah yes that reminds me when I baked those delectable cakes for Erasmus Nutley. Such as fennel flavored roll ups with persimmon filling He is such a dear sweet man underneath his crotchetiness. I suppose my relative would take one look at Nutley and exclaim he sure was not too big for his britches. If only he could buy pants that fit his frame. Land sakes Aunt Eula Mae would declare he was as skinny as bony Maroni. He’s a stick of macoroni. I suppose she was someone she knew. Oh well Seymour is coming home soon. I need to as Auntie Eula Mae would say get ready in two shakes of a lambs tail. Well shut my mouth I hear his car in our driveway

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THE BLACK ORCHID’S TEARS

THE BLACK ORCHID’S TEARS

I am The Black Orchid, and I am three thousand years old. My soul is dark and beauteous in suffering and joy. I would never want to vanquish pain and frequently pain and pleasure are intertwined. My soul is like an ancient orb, the shade of night. It is spring and the wondrous, yellow daffodils curtsey in the wind and the mad puffs of clouds are careening across a cerulean sky. I pick up the earth and smell life for the earth is our life. We have raped her for so long and now she reaps havoc on us. Yahveh is the God of this Era and he shall go on punishing us for as long as we do not treat the earth kindly.

Ye revelers, do not poison our host. I remember the fall of Rome and I remember the arrogance of the rulers who thought they could go on forever. There is a poem by Percy Byshe Shelley called Ozymandias.
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my works, Ye Mighty and despair.”
Nothing beside remains round the decay,
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare!
The lone and level sands stretch far and away.

I allow no sloth nor pollution in my domain. All the food eaten comes from our vineyards and gardens and we keep livestock. I go out on the grounds bare breasted my arrows strapped to my bare back. And I kill wild game on occasion, My mother, the village Shaman, mated with a male lion to beget me and I am part beast and have the desire for freshly killed prey on occasion. I do not expect my acolytes to eat as I do for they are human and I am part human. I Love the color of blood, its smell and taste on my tongue and I love to see the life fly from my prey’s eyes, and I feel a sensual feeling when I kill. Yes, I have killed humans. I killed Caligula. He beat me once too often and I straddled him at the moment of death with his member inside me. It would seem Vengeance is mine, and poison exists for a reason. To dispatch the unmerciful and evil. If I were not part cat I could have never withstood both my good and bad fortune. I lived as a Jew in WWII and planned to kill Hitler and would have if he didn’t have a taster. Maria Braun stuck so close to him that I could not get close enough to dispatch him but he had eyes for me I will say. What do I look like. As I see my reflection in a puddle I’ll tell you I see a very tall, lithe, small breasted woman, with the aspect of an athlete, My Black hair grows down to my ass and my skin is like alabaster, and my eyes are chartreuse like a big cat. My lips are perfect for “the” sexual act. I am fashion pretty not high school cheerleader pretty. I am not cute. What I lack in the bust line I make-up for in ass. Place two Martinis on my derriere and spill not a drop.

The beautiful sky has turned angry purple and now I know “he” will come, My equal and fellow immortal, The Minotaur. He is standing in the gloaming looking for me. He can smell my woman’s scent down there. I let out a snarl, and he comes and envelopes me in his powerful arms. His turgid cock presses into my slender abdomen and I dread it and want it all at once. He loves the violence of Thunder and the cold, cold rain on my bare skin. He laughs and says I am as cold as the dead. He is silent mostly as he knows too many words cheapen love.

He throws me down on the ground and rips open my leather pants, peeling them off me. I hand him my panties and he smells them and snorts like a bull, the bull that he is, I open to him like a tender blossom. He says I smell a bit like fresh nectarines and sweat. He pushes my kegs up for a deeper penetration and I wince as he ruts in me like he were an enemy. Delicious pain like a dead rose. I tumble from consciousness and my hips still move spasmodically and my shudder beckons him on to come.
When I come to he is tenderly holding me on his massive, hirsute chest and he gazes into my eyes, and they say, “I love you Black Orchid.” And the forest becomes a miasma of green as my eyes fill with tears. Endless rain and raging thunder.

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AD FOR POEMS OF THUNDER EXCERPT

ROTTEN DOLL

My heart is a broken thing,
Like half of a Valentine candy.
Be mine, broken one.
Trace its jagged edges,
And bleed like Jesus on the cross.
You twisted me, you tore me, you beat me,
Like a Rotten Doll.
Now I am a Rotten Doll.
Twisted, wry, murderous at heart, bitter as cloves,
At the core of my being.
My stockings stained with your cruel, careless love,
And my smile as fake as a plastic rose.
Your face lingers over me like a polluted sky.
You twisted me, you tore me, and you beat me like a mangy dog.
Now marry me, you Prince of Darkness.
And Reap just what you have sown.

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AD FOR GITANA EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

I am Tekla. Soy una gitana. The lower part of my body is mahrime, or unclean, two parts pressed together like a dusky rose. My upper body is pure like a virgin’s shoulders. So it is with all the woman of the Romani clan. We are pure and impure, and can pollute by our actions. We must never expose our lower half to anyone but our husbands and even then we must take care not to pollute them. We must stay away from our men and male stallions when we have the time of blood and when we are in child birth. There is a special red tent for these times. One who is mahrime by action or by nature cannot walk amongst us. The worst punishment for a gypsy is to be cast out, or judged mahrime, for he can never live the gypsy life or be with other gypsies. It is a fate worse than death for it is death to the spirit. Family is the most important thing for a gypsy, not possessions, as it is for the gadje.

When I was a girl I used to wander bare breasted through the camps free as a flower, my high little girl’s breasts catching the light like burnt calla lilies in the morning sun. The little, ragged boys would run by and try to touch them but I always avoided their greedy, curious fingers. As I have said my gypsy name is Tekla. My gadje name is Carmen, and my secret name you will never know. My sister, Rupa, at fourteen is much more beautiful than I. Yet, I do not shed a tear: my heart is a stone. I am a mere thistle at her feet.

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AD FOR CATFISH JOE & DOUBLE, DOUBLE, TOIL & TROUBLE

“Boy, why you be up in my bidness?”
Does I look like the fuckin’ encyclopedia or somethin’?”
“You look like somethin’ else entirely, Old Man,
But I aint sayin’”, said Tyrone.
“How you get yosef’ in a fucking mess like this?”
“Who say I be bad off? I lives off the land like Tarzan.
You want my goddamn life story, Boy?” he asked.
“Why you aint call me Tyrone, Mr. Joe. I done give you
my name.”
“Sorry,” replied old Joe. “It’s nothin’ on you. I just aint used
to people givin’ me they Christian names no mo’.
Tyrone, you got some time to spend?”
“All the time in the world, Mr. Joe,” he replied.
“Okay I be tellin’ ya my story. One time when I was young,
I was rich as Croesus. I had me six fine, fat, juicy Bitches and they
Wasn’t no ho’s neither. None of my womens had to work. Just lay
Back, fuck, and look pretty, that’s all. And I had me a big, giant
Mansion with twenty servants. They was all white, you see.
I figured, why not fuck ‘whitie” cuz he done fuck me royally
Fo so long. Tyrone, I tell ya it was heaven.”
“Tell me about the Bitches, Mr. Joe,” asked Tyrone.
“Oh, they was the finest pussy this side of Mississippi.
CATFISH JOE CONTINUED

Big, black, and juicy as goddamn Georgia peaches. They was horny as cats in heat, too. They loved the hell, out of they ol’ Daddy Joe.
I done it all with them. The suckin’. The fuckin’.
Old Joe know what to do wif a woman.
Then when I done give one money to buy a pretty dress,
Another bitch find out and she be jealous like ol’ Daddy
Don’t love her as much as the first Bitch. Then I gives
Her money and she go get an even better dress.
Them Bitches was a trip. I tell ya, Tyrone.”
“And what about yo mansion”, asked Tyrone.
“Oh, boy, it was splendid. Just splendid. Twenty six rooms,
all done in white, white furniture, white shag carpets.
The Works! I even had me some Elvis paintings and
Bull fighter paintings on black velvet. I likes art.
It was real class, I tell ya. I also had me a turquoise
Cadillac with zebra upholstery.
Shit, them were the days, Tyrone.”
The old man’s eyes misted over
“Mr. Joe,” said Tyrone, “How you gone tell me
you wasn’t no pimp, Where you git the money!”

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MIZ EULA MAE HAS A CONNIPTION FIT

MIZ EULA MAE HAS A CONNIPTION FIT

Miz Eula Mae received the shock of her life while visiting Lady Lynda. She awoke early and decided to make a country breakfast for Lady Lynda and her husband, Seymour. She lovingly made a gargantuan breakfast, Eggs Benedict with Turkey Ham, grits, fresh home-made biscuits, pancakes , orange and tomato juice and chicory coffee form Louisiana. Just as she opened the door, Seymour was worshipping Lady Lynda’s pert toes. The sight was so appalling to her that she dropped the tray of food and ran from the room screaming, “Spawn of Satan, Sacre Bleu.”

“Well, said Lady Lynda, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag and I have to go down and straighten things out with Miz Eula Mae, dearest auntie. We’ll just do a rewind when I get back and no, you should not come with me. She will no doubt consider you some Lascivious Lothario who has led me astray. Miz Eula may be having a heart attack or a conniption fit, at the very least. After all, she’s eighty-seven years old.”

She found her blessed auntie much undone and blowing into a brown paper bag looking like she had encountered the Devil in the Flesh. “You have sinned against out Blessed Lord,” she said between gasps.

“Miz Eula, my Seymour is a man of sophisticated tastes and what he does pleases me greatly, and no one gets hurt to say the least. A Lot has changed since you were in your prime. He is a successful fashion photographer and the proprietor of an upscale shoe store. A respectable man and good provider. And he doesn’t begrudge my talent as a writer. He encourages me to write my romances. He is a good, good man. Please understand.”

“In my day it was understood that we did our wifely duty but we were not encouraged to enjoy it. Only strumpets and harlots and whores enjoy the bestiality of the act. A proper wife is to lay down and spread ‘em, and turn her face to the side to preserve her purity,” said Miz Eula Mae.

“Miz Eula, women are expected to enjoy it these days. If not, it is grounds for divorce,” said Lady Lynda, stifling a giggle.

“You’re going to Hell in a hand basket, my girl. You are not a concubine, why behave as one. The Lord never said the worship of feet was a Godly act,” retorted Miz Eula.

“He never said either way, Miz Eula. Nowadays women are engaging in sex before marriage and I didn’t know this before I was forty. I kept waiting for my knight to come. And he did in the form of Seymour. I think you’re a bit old fashioned. Besides what about the washing of Jesus’s feet as a sign of respect and love.”

“In my day,” said Miz Eula, “We didn’t give up the milk before buying the cow and men were chivalrous and protective of the fair sex. And you are not Jesus, love. It’s a perversion. Does he also lambast little children?”

“Because a man does one quirky thing, It does not mean he engages in all the other things. Next thing I know you’ll be calling him a necrophiliac.

“A what?’ asked Miz Eula. And when Lady Lynda told her she colored up and began to fan herself saying, “Merciful Heavens.” Lady Lynda hid her smile behind her hand.

“The washing of Jesus’s feet was not sexual in any manner and what you do is filthy and you may think I’m innocent but I know some woman even take a man’s protuberance in their mouths, and this is just bestial. Don’t start any Biblical allusions as I am a lay preacher and mid-wife and I read the Bible every day for most of the day from sun up to sun down. I say stop this nasty UnGodly act or perish in burning Hell, “ said Miz Eula.

“Those things I used to believe in until I met Seymour at forty and fell in love and in lust. Seymour was very patient with me and approached slow with chocolates and flowers and bottles of good Cabernet. One day he gave me an ultimatum after about six months. He said that I wouldn’t buy a car without first driving it. And it made sense,”said Lady Lynda. “And then I married the man of my dreams and the rest is history.”

“Blasphemy, my dear,” said Miz Eula, “you put the cart before the horse. These kind of thoughts come from Satan, Darling. I will save you from burning perdition. Get down on your knees and pray with me,” said Miz Eula forcefully. Lady Lynda got on her knees. That was when Miz Eula had the conniption fit, her limbs jerked spasmodically, and her right eye listed to the side and she foamed at the mouth. Then she came to with much sputtering and spittle on her purple lips and her make up made her look old and garish in the fading afternoon light. Her credo as a Lady was to always be made up and always have on clean white underwear so people would know she was a lady if death came knocking.

“Dear it was amazing. I was in a big field with the Lord and many many ewes, and he said you were exempt from the fires of Hell due to all your good works. The sky was pink like a sunset and I could smell wet roses and there was this most luscious nectar he gave to sooth my tattered spirit. And he took me in his arms, and said, “You are my child, Eula Mae and this shall be your home, one day.”

“So I guess we’re out of the woods, so to speak,” said Lady Lynda.

“Yes, dear that is a given. Now you and Seymour get ready for a late country brunch. An empty stomach is the Devil’s Playground.

http://societyfordaintydamsels.com

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Dan D. Walker encounters the Local Curmudgeon

Erasmas Nutley, looking like a cratchety Ichobod Crane, hurried with bated breath down the airport runway.
As he scooted past the road toward his flight he spied three teenaged gals. They looked like they came from some kind of wild party. Erasmus sneered as he passed by them” “Dawgone it. “Young women should be dignified. Damn!!! Not horsing’ around like damn fools Imagine that!!! Those sluts are making fools of themselves.” Wanting to goad them into decorum, he waved his arm like he was holding a good sized gnarled wooden stick. “Shut my mouth! The teenaged girls completely ignored the curmudgeon and continued on their merry way.
One of the women feeling sorry for the geezer questioned why he was so miserable. He snapped at her and told her. “Seeing cheap sluts like you’. In my day young women were dignified. They knew their place.”
“When was your day? In the buggy days” The three of them guffawed. What was their place. In the kitchen? Barefoot an’ preggers? Erasmus Nutley sneered. “I knew you cheap harlots wouldn’t understand. In my days young ladies knew their manners.and their place. Where does your parents learn parenting’. Fortune cookies? From comic books. Seems like your mother and father’s intellect.” For’ some reason, somehow I expected better. Thanks for making’ me realize how fruitless that was. Yessir this world is going to hell in a hand basket. Stop cavorting’ like darn fools” were the last words he yelled as the teens walked on

Dan.D. Walker, customer service representative wondered why the grump didn’t ask about his flight. It was as if the surly curmudgeon didn’t want to burden himself with anything except his constant harangue of the hapless service rep. His scowl was menacing D. Walker thought most anyone would be miserable with this hyar curmudgeon, as any fool kin plainly see.”

“Ah knows someone who kin help yo’ much better than me,” Walker said, cuss it all to tarnation The curmudgeon sneered and replied “Of course you do. Just about anyone. But ah only be botherin’ you. I can tell from yer accent your Texan. An’ thats where I’m heading’. Plano Texas to be exact. Home of the cockroach Hall of Fame. Thet weirdo pest control expert Ichabod Bodhan thought it was so clever to name his critters names like Liberoachee, David Letterroach. I figure the pert female guide is Roachell, How typical of Texans to honor the lowly bug. Never any guarantee of fine taste deep in the heart of Texas. But the minute chance I’m wrong I want to check it out myself”
Dan D. Walker sighed under his breath. “It gives me great pleasure to know th’ exhibit closed down He wanted to tell the damn fool what he said wasn’t true. But that would be unprofessional. Dan D. Walker wanted to tell that darn numbskull to stuff it whar the sun don’t shine. Walker fondly recalled Texas official motto “Friendship”. He smiled as he remembered how blues guitarist great Stevie Ray Vaughn was from Texas an’ so were Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce, Sundance Head an’ his Paw Roy Head, Jensen Ackles from “Supernatural”. San Marcos Texas’s earliest inhabitants were Indians who lived there ten thousand years ago.”
Dan D. Walker beamed as he pictured the old fart’s flight being ready. Dan, D. Walker thought how delightful it’d be, the ornery critter crashing through a trap door. His delight soon faded when he reminded himself unfortunately there was so such contraption. It was much more likely for a hounddog to fly than to get rid of this here critter.
“He don’t stop. He’s like a human “Evah Ready” battery. Keeps gwine an’ gwine an’ gwine.”

Erasmys Nutley scowled as he kept saying Texas was nothing but a home for cockroach enthusiasts. Dan D. Walker made a mental note of how the customer was makin’ a huge generalization based on one part of one town, as anyone with a brain can see.
He was bad mouthin’ the Lone Star state on account of his thick accent he was fum thar And sho’nuff as tumbleweeds tumble the ornery critter was trying his best to goad him, dawgone it.

“If ever there was a desire to git away” man sighed
The Texan imagined pressing a button signallng him somewhere else. The customer service rep figured “Prackically ennywhar fum this hyar grump would be good enuff” . What in tarnation if the creep’s plane was late? And what if he lost his composure? He’d been there for only a week. Shut mah mouth! It was not rnough time to make ,aj presence know, let alone established, cuss it all to murgatroid.”

.Dan D. Walker was visibly uneasy. He wo’ried he’d revert back to his uninteligable accent.He wished he could show the creep in no uncertain terms that tge man was a dumb ass idiot. “Jest his luck as enny fool kin plainly see. D. Walker bemoaned the creep’s plane was late. The fact was he figured “Murphy’s Law” strikes again. The one time he wanted so much to get rid of this know it all, the man’s flight wasn’t here yet. If only thar was a way out.

Finally Erasmus finally WALKED away. Dan, as any fool kin plainly see. D. Walker swiftly concluded “That SOB was the dawgoned-est pert near irritatin’ SOB ah evah did encountered, cuss it all to tarnation and then some!!!”

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