Squirt Leaves Penny A Pee-mail; Mooner Hires An Editor


So. I hired my editor from the short list culled from the many applicants I got from the EFA listing I placed last week. It was a difficult choice because I had so many great applicants and because I am such a pain in the ass.

True. See, I wanted a non-Texan editor this time so I can insure things don’t get another layer of redneck bias through the editing process. Then, several of my finalist choices were Southerners but not Texans. When we spoke, they seemed to understand most everything I said and much of that without having to question me. This I also felt was problematic.

Follow my logic tree on this– I think I might be suffering from a brain fritz when my sense is that I’m clear-thinking, so I need some help. OK. I am a crazy redneck fuckball who suffers with the ADHD and, as diagnosed by Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson when she told me,“Mooner, you are the only person I have ever treated who seems to have no ability to filter your thoughts.”

When I asked her, “What the fuck are you talking about?”, she answered, “You are the most inappropriate man I know.”

Well fucking duh.

So I’m thinking that maybe a Southerner as editor might be problematic. If they can understand me so easily then they might be Baptist, or a redneck. Most Baptists are Southern Baptist and many Southerners are Baptists, and even though I attempted to vet-out Baptists with the wording of my EFA listing- I was concerned that picking a Southerner was a mistake.

Plus, a non-Southerner will be required to ask more questions to gain any kind of understanding from my ramblings, and that will provide me with more opportunities to influence them.

Anyway, I found an editor and I am very pleased with my choice. She’s a New Yorker by birth, Boston educated, has high cheekbones and that chic figure that just screams, “New York City.” If I wasn’t already in a committed relationship I’d leave her alone anyway. I met her boyfriend and liked him immediately.

We talked for a few minutes when I paid my bill. He’s from Milwaukee and the two of them are headed that way for the holidays. If my fee hadn’t already been charged to my credit card, that little bit of information might have caused me to rethink my choice. I’ve been to Milwaukee in the winter, and no sane person chooses to go there in the winter. The cold up there is different– it invades you.

It’s this insidious cold that assaults you through your skin and as you take each breath. Like breathing crushed ice while sitting in Antartica.

Which reminds me. I went by Dr. Sam I. Am’s place yesterday afternoon to grab the Squirt so we can finish her shopping before it gets too late. Squirt met me at the door with a mouthful of ice. I was greeted with, “Hife, Moofer. Fuft’s uff?”

“Oh for shit sakes, Squirt. Swallow that ice before talking. You sound like you just got a Botox injection in your tongue.” I did that once, but only had it injected into half, so part of my tongue worked and the other half was paralyzed. One of the ex-wives wanted injections in her forhead but was afraid, so I went first. Weird couple of months until it wore off.

Squirt swallowed. “I’m all Packed, Monsieur Mooner, but I need to see Penny before I leave.”

“Wow!” I told her. “Fourteen words of English and only one French. Have you been practicing?”

“Nope. Tongue’s still cold and English is easiest.”

Anyway, we walked the four doors down to the Penster’s house, but Penny was nowhere in sight. “What do you want to do?” I asked her. “We can go to my car and get some paper for a note.”

“No problemo, Bwana Mooner. I’ll leave her a pee-mail.” And with that, she squatted in the grass at Penny’s house and dribbled and squirted for a few seconds.

“What did you say to her?”

“I told her that I’m with you through the weekend but we can come get her for Christmas day if her mom OK’s it. I told her about the big leg bone you got me and Dixie, and she was pretty excited. I told her to go leave a pee-mail at my mom’s house if she can make it. Dixie can sniff that message when Streaker Jones and her come to get Mom to come to your place for dinner.”

“OK, first Wow, again. That’s mostly great English. Except it’s Dixie and me, and Streaker Jones and she.”

When she looked at me sideways, I added, “I think.”

She smiled at me and shook her head, rattling the jingle bells collar she’s wearing.

I patted her precious little head. “Come on you little shitbird, let’s get home to the ranch and crack a cold Carta Blanca beer. Gram’s making pizza and I made the sausage– Italian pork, and spicy hot!”

She started dancing at my feet.

Manana, y’all.

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2 Responses to “Squirt Leaves Penny A Pee-mail; Mooner Hires An Editor”

  1. Hmm, who could this mysterious (and chic) editor be? Do I really have high cheek bones?

  2. admin says:

    High cheeks and bones are my specialty. Thanks for listening. And don’t forget your long johns!

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