A Small Town Parade; A Bigtime Blunder

So. I wanted to tell you about the good time we had out to West Texas. The hurricane was blowing big bands of rain across the state, so it rained every day and most of each day. Not heavy downpours but enough to keep things cool and wet. I was the only one of our group who liked all that rain.

SAC Ellen kept complaining about her hair and her shoes and the damp linens in our room. The Squirt was unhappy because she loves the rain but doesn’t like when it splashes all over her cute little puppy titties. Her eight miniature boobies are her favorite feature but she’s built low to the ground. So I was required to carry a hand towel with me and my job was to wipe the wet crud off her belly and girl stuff to keep everything fresh and polished for her.

Actually, Squirt can be quite embarrassing when she shows-off her little naked belly with its eight miniature nipples. She rolls over onto her back and pushes her tummy out to expose her goodies. I know she doesn’t do it just to embarrass me and now that I’m talking about my embarrassment, I realize I need to schedule more psycho therapy.

How can I wave my bare ass around like it’s a flag on the Fourth of July and be embarrassed when a puppy shows her doggy stuff like doggies do?

Dixie bitched about everything but mostly she was unhappy about the unruliness of West Texas dogs. “No manners, Mooner. No manners at all,” she said, and often. The Dixter is getting a little long in the tooth and I think she is spending too much time with my Gram. The two of them are so cranky they could turn an old fashioned ice cream maker with nothing but their bad moods.

But I am willing to humor Dixie regardless of her crankiness. She has done so much for me that I will take anything she dishes out. I did tell her that if she was on her period that these unruly West Texas hounds would be her cup of tea, she told me, “My cup of tea- you are delusional.”

Which reminds me to tell you about the big parade in Fort Davis on the Fourth. It was everything a small town parade should be except for the right wing Republican Baptist Tea Party-supporting small mindedness of so many of the people. The biggest cheers were for any float that had anti-Obama slogans, or NRA Signs or Tea Party posters on them.

Which is the root cause for my comment in the last postie about how I’m glad to be dating a Special Agent in Charge for a major United States government crime enforcement agency. That would be SAC Ellen.

See, one of the things that you do in a small town parade is throw candy and toys and stuff to the kids on the parade route. We had adorned the big wagon I’ve had since I was a boy and dressed it up with red, white and blue bunting and a bunch of American flags. I decided to cut the seat out of a pair of old shorts and make a hole that exposed only my furry, “Happy Birthday America,” tribute. That way children would only see brightly painted hair and not any adult body parts.

Then, since the parade was full of horses and livestock, I couldn’t use the sparklers and Roman candles I had planned to hold along the route, so my hands were free. Sparkly fires and loud noises spook livestock. So, I decided to get some candy to throw to the kids but all they had left at the store was big bags of Almond Joy and Mounds. Full-sized packages. I bought all they had but if I threw a full pack to each kid- no way I had enough.

This made me wonder why it’s Mounds but not Almonds Joys.

Squirt came to the rescue and advised me to open the packs of two candy parts and I would double the count, a number of candy parts Dixie felt would cover us. Then SAC Ellen reminded us that we would be pitching naked candy to kids lining a dusty, dirty paved Ranch Road and in the rain. So we needed a solution to this new problem.

I quickly solved this problem because I’ve been getting one of my products ready for sale here to the webber and bloggie and I had an entire case of printed plastic baggies in my car. So, Thursday night we unwrapped and bagged maybe 500 Mounds and Almond Joys and put them in a box to carry on the wagon. SAC Ellen wouldn’t have anything to do with the whole candy deal saying, “Mooner, this is a very bad idea.” Each time I asked her why she just looked at me in that way women look at me when they think I’ve lost my mind.

“We’re wearing plastic gloves for shitsakes,” I told her. “Nobody’s touching the candy and the bags are all new-in-the-box.”

“Mooner, you don’t have a clue,” and off she went to shop in one of the cute stores.

The next morning early, we loaded everything into the trunk and headed down to park near the parade route next to the new Whole Foods Store where they have great food and coffee. This is not the same as the conglomerated Whole Foods headquartered up to Austin but rather a local bunch with a good idea.

The coffee they price by-the-cup at whatever the temperature is, so that morning a cup of coffee, good coffee, was $.69 plus tax. We sat on the front porch of the store from about 7 am until a half hour before the parade’s 10 am start- drinking good cheap coffee, eating pastries and reading.

When we unloaded the box of bagged candy to start the parade, I noticed that the trunk must have heated a bit in the sun so the candy had warmed to that stage where it hasn’t melted but it’s really soft and malleable. I opened one to see if they were OK and it was a little squishy, and it left a chocolate smear on my fingers, but it was fresh and tasty.

“We’re good to go girls,” I told my team. SAC Ellen helped me get the cute harnesses on the dogs and she drove the car to the end of the parade route to watch. I hitched the dogs to my wagon and took my place in line.

I should have known that things were headed South in West Texas when the first comment I heard was, “Shudda painted Obammie’s ugly mug on yer ass podner. That’s always good fer a laff round here.”

Now look, like I said before. Not everyone was a right wing fuckball. They were just the most vocal.

So. I’m settled onto my display perch in the wagon and the parade gets started. The two girls are doing their best to pull me steadily, but the two feet in height difference made things a little wobbly. I was throwing bags of candy with each hand and maybe squeezing them a little tight as I threw, so I knew I was adding a little distortion.

Have I told you about the first product I hope to have available? It’s called Republican of Texas Compost and the sample bags we used for the candy were for that product. I make this variety of compost as a semi-gag gift. The compost is made from nothing but organic chicken manure and it is actually a great product.

But for marketing purposes I label it, “Ingredients: 100 percent chicken shit. Uses: Like all good Texas Republicans it’s not good for anything.”

Turns out I should have taken SAC Ellen’s sage advice about the whole candy dealie. What I was doing, basically, was throwing bags of melted and deformed candy that looked like little milk and dark chocolate turds, the labels to said bags printed with a message deemed to be highly inappropriate, nay offensive, to the parents of the child recipients.

I’m just glad it was a short parade because I was unharnessing the girls and putting our stuff up before my latest act of stupidity caught up with me.

Drew quite a crowd though. Unhappy crowd and unruly to boot if you ask me.

So, this is why I love SAC Ellen. After letting me twist in the heated breeze made by a few hundred angry West Texas Republicans, she stepped in to save me. “Step back everyone, step back now.” Then she flashes her badge and says, “I’m a federal agent and I’m arresting this man.” And then, “Put you hands up sir or I’ll need to use force.”

That sounded like some serious foreplay to me so I said to SAC Ellen, I say, “Oh who elected you queen of me. I’m not doing anything but having a good time,” and I walked to the car with my back to her. I leaned into the back seat to strap the Squirt into her seat and, “ZZZZZAAAAAPPPP!”

She tazed me right between the “M” and the “E” in AMERICA.

Since it started raining and rained the rest of the day, it was OK that we spent it all in bed. The girls studied languages and later came to get us for dinner. We went to Alpine to eat at Riata, a solid eating establishment. As we waited in the bar, I had an interesting conversation with Martin Lujan, a graduate from High School in Alpine who was back for somebody’s graduation.

If I had any computer skills, I could type Martin’s real name, but you say it Mar-teen. He said that his family goes way back in West Texas and he gave me some interesting information about the area.

Martin is a former US Navy man and now a law student at The University of Texas. I told him that I usually do not like lawyers and I hope he wouldn’t become what most of them become- a giant flaming asshole.

He assured me he would not become an asshole, and the very attractive blond woman, who joined him after my group was seated for dinner, seemed to agree.

I don’t remember what everyone else had for dinner, but I had grilled pork chop, potatoes, a nice iceberg wedge with a tangy blue cheese vinaigrette, and of course, icy cold Carta Blanca beer.

Speaking of which, it’s CB Time! Manana ya’ll.

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