*****Here We Go Again. This morning it was announced that the Emporor and staff had decided to put fifty special forces people on the ground in Syria. This comes after three years of convicted insistance that no U.S. Troops would be put on the ground there. "This will not be Iraq or Afghanistan. There will be no boots on the ground--period," said White House national security advisor Susan Rice on September 9, 2013.
Certainly I'm no wonk but I think the Obama crowd is afraid of the Russians. I think Obama will give the leading role in a negotiated plan to stop the Syrian war and remove Assad, to Putin. He gets the roses and Obama gets out of a meaningful commitment with his personal, lame duck, ass intact. Is this a great country or what?
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The following is taken from Chapter Three of the Rednak Chronicles. I actually knew the real Shorty and his wife Tiny. The were "neighborhood store" owners on Lady's Island when I was living on Fripp Island, the resort, four miles to the east and fifty years ahead of their world. The story, of course is many years before Tiny & Shorty actually lived in this quiet, natural setting. Enjoy.
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An Introduction to Shorty & Tiny, Inn Keepers and Storeowners
“That’s a fine lookin’ cow pony.” Milo observed, tugging at his suspenders as he walked out to greet his friend, Joe, “Island Boy”, Pritchard. “What you doin’, way over here in sand ridge country?”
Island Boy’s pony was about eleven hands, paint colored, with donkey ears. An eight foot bull whip hung from the saddle horn and a scabbard with a double barreled 12 gauge hung at the ready on the right side of the little steed. This special horse was perfect for chasin’ Florida’s cracker cows through the tangles of hammock thickets, piney woods, palmettos and cypress head bogs. The rider was low to the ground and could get on and off three dozen times a day without wearin’ out. The donkey blood gave the pony agility and senses not common to regular horse flesh. The rider didn’t have to walk around swamp thicket blow downs. He just got off, scrambled over the horizontal tree trunk, then whistled sharply and the long eared campaigner would jump the tree handily. Burro ancestry gave the pony stamina and bull headed strength, often times dug in in the sitting position making it possible to hold a six hundred pound, struggling, cow with a catch rope.
“Oh, I pushed some cows over yesterday and found the Blankenship place this morning. Took Walter a while to find where he had buried his money but he found it before I got the nervous stomach.” Island Boy, got off his horse, “I came back dis way to extend you an invitation.”
Milo, said with a chuckle, “Is this an invitation to come over and work, or to play?”
“Could be both, but it will be fun!” Joe laughed, “Shorty says the hogs are ready out on Two Tree Island. And he’s got some home brew fresh made from barley and yeast that some wagon driver from Kentucky traded him for a bed and a hot tub bath, a few months back. “
“Shorty said the driver cut his stay short after the evening “bath” Tiny offered in the hospitality package,” Joe was still smiling broadly.
He went on to say that that evening the driver could hear the water being poured into the tub and smell the steamy aroma of lye soap and cheap ester wafting in through the room’s only window. About thirty paces out back a lantern shown and reflected on the wooden door of the steam house. Smoke from the potbellied stove had fogged the whole yard.
In a high pitched, sultry, soft spoken tone, Tiny called out to the man, “Mista Wagonman, I ez drawin’ yo bath ute heah in de steam howz. Get yo towel an shavin’ gear an come on outz now.”
Joe continued, “I might add that the wagoneer had not seen Tiny when he arrived earlier. Shorty, had given him a tin pie plate with a big piece of cornbread and some sorghum and showed him the room in the back of the shack. Darkness came quickly this time of the year and the Kentuckian was lookin’ forward to a hot soak and a good night’s sleep on the sway back, iron bed.”
“The driver pushed open the steam house door and stepped into the dimly lighted room“, Joe was whispering and chuckling under his breath.
He described a candle flickering on a short table next to the sitz tub and a lantern wicked down to a tiny light in the corner of the room. A big crab steamin’ pot, full of water, bubbled on the small stove. Humidity, must, and perspiration hung in the air.
“Yo go on and gits in the de bath ‘fo it cools and I be en wid a sponge to waash yo back di-reck-ly,” Tiny said in a low, bashful voice. “Now yo close yo eyes an yo keep em close ‘til I sez, luk.”
There was a rustling behind a curtain to the right and the wagon man began to think that he had struck himself a hellava deal for beer makins’!
The floor creaked as she made her way up to the tub. She pushed the sponge down in the bath water then squeezed it over the wagon man’s head. Lightly, she touched his shoulders with her fingertips. He pushed back against the tub, relaxing- - - while holding his eyes tightly shut. “Wagonman, down be gittin’ no wild ideas ova dis bath now,” Tiny was giggling. “Alright yo can open yo eyes!”
Wagonman had one leg propped on the rim of the galvanized tub, his elbows straight out for support. Blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he sucked in a raspy breath of shock and surprise at the image facing down at him from the foot of the sitz bath. Tiny was wearing a feed sack shift, wet from the atmosphere of the room, a head band crossed her sweat beaded forehead. All three hundred pounds of Tiny filled the five foot frame that looked like a damp quilt hanging from the back fence. Tiny’s wet shift revealed an awful lot. An awful lot - - of fat folds! She was so squat that her waist looked like her bosom.
The wagon man was stuttering and trying vainly to cover himself with the hand towel Shorty had given him to dry with, while hopping around the dark room grabbing at his clothes and boots.
“Shorty, said the wagoneer slept fitfully that night - - groaning and talking in his sleep and was ready to drive his team out of there before daylight. Apparently, Shorty told him that Tiny would be right out with some fresh brewed chicory, which prompted the Kentuckian to run out the door and rein slap his team for a fast getaway!”
Joe, was choking with laughter and Milo couldn’t get the
image of “Tiny” out of his mind as he laughed heartily.
To be continmued:
Shorty Takes the Boys on a Hog Hunt
The Rednak Chronicles is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle format.
Thanx to my friend Rodney Walters you can go on this Mars trip unlike any before it ‘cause this ain’t Disney!
Now this will scare the s—t out of someone
I thought walking was fun….
Two types of TrickorTreat girls
Just another day at Walmart
Beware of a Trick or Treater dressed as a boulder with a basketball for a head. He will have a fruit bat on his shoulder - - in case you have any doubts.
Don't eat any black bananas.