Ordinarily, as per Davey H’s pervasive,procrastination
producing perspicuous,partially pejorative piffle,this post – now having been
in progressonly 3 ½ days late – would begin something like this:
“Not sure what we did today,
but maybe that’s okay;
I know for sure we didn’t bray
of this mundane foray.”
So we headed south on brand new skins.
Well, hush my mouth and purge my sins!
Then bust my ass with constipation
a source of substantial consternation!
But this always happens when I travel;
too little crappin’s to unravel
fetid, bloated, not so neat
strained and gloated ‘oer well-warmed seat.
We had serendipitous fortune to stay
with arborist Rowlie, the very next day
who chatted at length oh, so merrily
with his dear spouse across the sea.
Chatting, yes, no heed to type;
high tech, I guess
that thing called Skype®.
We chimed in, too,
with such good luck;
‘cause I’ll tell you
we saved a buck!
As a point of reference,
his former spouse
had parsed with much deference
that old sturdy farmhouse
into a fine countrified B & B
way back in the ‘90’s, a grand sight to see!
So now he could host the spouse-ster and me!
Rowlie was such a conversant dude,
a fact that we may well have guessed;
and all conversations were polite, never lewd
but with Skype® he was fully obsessed!
We also knew of that fire,the heat, palpitation,and bubbly flurry of excitementsurrounding such interplay of the sexes;after all, we had been through that
wringer– each of us more than a few times, as had he.
But now Rowlie had the magnitudeof longitude to contend with,which, as we
could see from the chat,didn’t interfere in the leastwith verbal
communication,but severely impeded steamy skin contact!
north, so as to go westfor what it’s worth, at our behest.It’s
vacay time, no need to worryso be sublime; what use the
hurry?Cool, fresh air, the pleasure’s mineas we pass a
pastoral lair so fine!Gladly turning off the phoneI happily
scoff; it will leave us alone!No place for stuffmy feet
will gnashI’ve had enoughof this slick-assed dash!Past
the garden statuaryat the roadside nurseryconcrete so
contemporaryseems like they’re waving to me!As this
trip’s tenure winds down fastSoon we’ll croon: “Home at
visit with Anne – during which Jane tagged along, providing
luxurious wheels in the form of her peppy Chrysler 300 – Davey fell
gastronomically ill. Was it that plate of nachos? Or maybe the soupy
beans, which, when slathered with all that bottled hot sauce, formed
a fiery swill that burned all the way down and out. But the ‘out’
didn’t happen soon enough, as per a prior post.Earplugs were a
necessity in that incredibly noisy joint, which is hardly surprising
in any place that serves booze.When ethanol hits imbiber’s
auditory nerve endings, the dulling effect is profound.
Peace, prayer, &
counseling centerwith decorative sign in Chinese.From Camden
to Winslowwe do indeed go slowon country roads like
these.We saw not one,not two,but friggin' THREE pickup
truckson front lawns sporting FOR SALE signs– and all within a
quarter-mile of each other.Chinese sign,3 pick 'em up
trucks,this wallet's still mine,and still has its bucks.But my
fate will unravelas long as we travelit's tiring, and
besides, it SUCKS!Veering 'oer Route 73,off of
Winslow,straight, you see.A rumble seat for the likes of me!
Nights sucked. In fact,
Davey came to loathe the very likelihood of hotel bunking – with
its vagaries too numerous to mention.When sleep eventually
arrived, grotesque dreams followed suit, tumbling through his fog in
a hodgepodge, and were clustered in that thin slice of grogginess
just before pitchin' off the sheets.In one such dream, a bad
case of athlete's foot threatened Davey H's relative homeostasis,
festering as he fussed with it.Next in the dream-drama came a
movie-like horror featuring a group of horseback-mounted Arab men
clad in white tunics, sporting rifles and looking for something to
Continuing the absurd, violent dreamscape, the
aforementioned armed Arab gents – possibly reveling in exercising their Second
Amendment rights, should they have been so ensconced on American soil – had as
their marks another group of similarly clad men who were either seated or
standing, thus not having horse muscle motility advantage.
Though it took 50 words to comprise this continuance-based introductory
paragraph, Davey can assures it was necessary.
Of course nobody will read it. So screw it. Davey can get as wordy as he likes.
Next, the horse-mounted gunmen fired upon the pedestrians, who blazed away with
weapons of their own.
From somewhere, somehow, some way, some day, Davey had heard
it was Davey Crockett’s birthday today, but could neither confirm nor deny such
a claim or explain it away.
Now, here he was on paragraph # 2 – writing 'behind' – damn near ten days
So needless to say his ass was dragging.
It so happened Davey H was infatuated with Davey Crockett's story in the '60's,
when Mom & Dad presented him with one of those giant kid-friendly picture
books in which Crockett was the centerpiece.
That coonskin cap fit Crockett well, but he could have used some cheap