Today's Message From The Airstream
Well, here I am in the old Airstream trailer - you know, the one up on blocks behind Art Bell's mobile home - answering the phones and feeding the chickens.
Seems we had quite a scare here yesterday. Bell ran into the Airstream yelling, "MJB! MJB! One of my chickens done turned green!" I went outside to investigate, but it turns out that the neighbor, Elmer, had just spilled green paint all over one of Bell's prized poultry and the poor thing was flapping around and rolling in the dirt (it's nothing but dirt out here as far as you can see), and believe you me, it was a mess.
Bell was sitting in an old rusted-out model T, head in his hands, crying, saying how, "This is the gol dern quickening at work! I tell you MJB, it gits scarier and scarier every day..." I told Bell it was only Elmer spilling paint again, but he was gone and there was no getting him back.
In fact he didn't really cheer up again until the little woman came out and rang the dinner Bell. "Possum stew! Possum stew!" she whistled (dang she can whistle! I never did hear anyone whistle so loud through the gap of a missing tooth) and Bell jumped up and ran toward the house, "Possum stew, yippee!" but he tripped and fell, opening up a nasty gash on his chin, since when he started running, his pants were down around his ankles. Yep, his rope belt had broke again!
Well, that's the news from (dry)lake sensebegone, where are the men are tuberculosis ridden, all the women are thick, and all the children are way below average...