In the poetry section, I’ve been sharing the continuing saga of The Wanderin Man in poetic verse. The next 4 parts, though not really in poetic verse, tell of another of his adventures. Today’s edition is Wanderin Man – 9 – Beyond Mardi gras – Part I
“BEYOND MARDI GRAS” - Part I
I bin a telling about a situation I was mixed up in back in New Orleans, after a lucky streak at the card table. Well, once I got out of that situation an got my bankroll safely deposited, I decided to head toward Vegas. I wasn’t really in no hurry cause I still had plenty of time afore the Series would be a startin, so I figured to take my time gittin there. I’d been holin up in cheap motel rooms long enough an even though I now had plenty of cash, I had me a hankerin to spend a few nights sleepin under the stars. I’d been on the road fer days an it was beginning to feel like the handlebars had done growed fast to my hands…. An the seat was beginning to feel like my second skin. My ass was completely numb and I had to piss like a race horse. On top of that, I had jist passed a semi a few miles back and he covered me with so much sludge an slime that it felt like I hadn’t had a shower in a Month a Sundays. I hadn’t slept mor’n 4 hours a night in nigh on to a week now and I hadn’t had a hair cut ner shaved in so long even my own mother wouldn’t a recognized me.
I was six er seven days out of New Orleans travelin the back roads an had jist pulled out onto the 4 lane, so I decided to open er up and git the clogs out. As I pulled out to pass some redneck with a confederate flag in the back winder and a Georgia plate on the back of his pick em up truck, I’ll be damned if he didn’t pull right out in front of me. Didn’t even use his signal, jist come a whippin right out there. Well I damn near had ta take the ditch to avoid running right up his tailpipe. Lately, I bin a tryin to turn over a new leaf by doin a better job of keepin my temper under control, so I tried to let it go an not let it git me all riled up. My blood was jist a boilin, but I was fightin the urge to wrap that damn flag around his neck and drag his ass down the road a piece.
Well, when I got myself under control an things settled back down I began to take notice of things and I got a better look at the driver. Turned out is was a chick and she was totally unaware of my presence. The way her head was a bobbin around, seemed like she was a jammin to the radio, totally unaware that anyone else was even on the road. Well, I fell in behind her and we was a haulin ass down the road makin damn good time when I caught a glimpse of blue lights up ahead. I began to slow down an I noticed that she was a slowin down too. Then she put on her signal (at least now we know they work) an began to pull off to the side of the road. Well, bein the gentleman that I am, I slowed down even more an decided to pull over behind her.
When we got stopped she come a flyin out a her pick-em-up truck like her clothes was on fire. Course, that would assume that she had clothes on, which she didn’t…. Not a stitch…. Guess it took her a few minutes afore she realized that I was even there an when she finally did notice me she seemed a bit embarrassed. Well, not knowin exactly how to react, I introduced myself an asked her if I could be of any assistance. That was the beginnin of one of the strangest tales I’ve ever been apart of.
To be continued…..
Copyright © 2011 Richard Lee King. All Rights Reserved.
Web Site: Website - Life is Poetic
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|Reviewed by Patrick Granfors
|Masterful and fun story telling. Patrick|
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|I need a picture of her to get my intrigue up. By the way, why are you putting a story in the articles section? Your poems were cool. I guess it was too much trouble to try to make everything rhyme and still tell the story, eh?
|Reviewed by Annabel Sheila
|Excellent writing, Richard! This really would make a great book! Witty, intriguing, and and entirely likeable main character...I picture Patrick Swazie's pal in Road House..giggle...
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
|Nikkid female-type-person insteed 'o that thar Georgia Bulldawg Redneck you wuz a-fixing ta put a whupping on. Shoot, insteed 'o whupping his ass you can . . . er . . . find 'tother uses fer hers.|
|Reviewed by Donna Chandler
|The Wanderin Man sure does manage to get himself into some interesting situation! Looking forward to whatever is coming next.