Sunday, March 18, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Honey, I'm Home!

Now Zeb happened to be dining alone that evening. His new pregnant sweetie-pie was attending yet another fashion show to benefit the brave troops. It should be mentioned that she sailed through society under her own name. Insiders knew the truth, but nobody talked. Why muddy up somebody else's bloomers when they all got bloomers a their own?

Ole Effie was gone. She stayed 'round for  a while, a lot longer than most a them other kit-kat 'retainers.' Government wanted a put her out, just pick her up and dump her old, scraggly ass out somewhere's in them badlands. Zeb intervened. He knew who to call. So she had time to pack up her stuff  and wait  for a tank to transport her out to a Chinese base in the borderlands. Some folks say she went on to join her sister in one a them nice little oasis settlements. But I also heared certain un-publicized accounts that claim she 'workin'' as a lab rat for a big Chinese (and not just Chinese...big Earth-side American interests are in on it too) drug - beneficial prion, research and development hinky-dink. She did have a good way a makin' sweet potato pie. Hope they give her a nice cage.

The new gal, some jumped up shop girl from one them boutiques just off a Neil DeGrasse Tyson Avenue, open the door and jus' look at 'em. She don't know who they are. She jus' wanna  go back in the kitchen an' read her sexy-trampy holazine. So she say - Yes? And wit' all due respect, who the hell do we got here?................... Miss India (who rarely talk that way) say - You ain't got nothin', you buck-teeth, big ass, hootchie gal. This My house (Bart clear his throat), this our house and we jus' catchin' our breaths is all. Now where my 'huzzzbind'?

Zeb, who almost choke on little bit a gristle say - Sugar-babe! What the hell has Jesus done to me!? (as he run out into the hall) You here! You all here! ....... An' he do hug her, but not like he really mean it. Then he pick up Little Davey too. Kiss him on the cheek and all that...... Davey say - Howdy, pa......... But if you look real fast, you see he rollin' his eyes over to Bart. 

Miss Sissie squeeze him 'round his neck. He is her firstest baby, after all. Even Bart slap him on a shoulder. Them other folks, the ranch hands and they women doan say nothin'. They just stand 'round takin' it all in.

Bart lead 'em all in a the 'quiet talkin' room' (that what they call a livin' room in these parts. He set hisself down in his big chair, just off the side a the fireplace. Then he yell - Effie! where my drink?....... Zeb say - We  ain't got no Effie no more. Government goomers done toted her away........ Bart shoot him a look and say - What this 'Gov'ment' shit you tellin' me, boy? Ain't you part a that too!? Why you let it happen!? .................. Zeb doan say nothin'. He jus' look down at his lap. Miz India grab his hand. Oh, she do smell some kind strange toilet water on him. But this ain't no time for no scratch fight. She can pencil that in for later.

Dumb kitchen gal figure she better fill 'em up wit' somethin'. She better keep 'em busy. So she whip up a big, ole crystal pitcher  fill a Tang. You know, fancy Earth shit like that hard  to get up here. 

Bart commence a detailed account a their sojourn wit' the Tuva-Tuva folk. Kids start playin' wit' an antique porcelain Flintstones-Bedrock chess set originally won by some ancestor almost one hundred and sixtyfive years ago on the boardwalk in Wildwood, New Jersey. Nobody been stabbed or killed yet. So for the Texacos things is goin' all right.

But then it happen. Somebody push they little finger 'gainst that door bell. One second later chimes start playin 'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.' Zeb freeze. He look just like alabaster (or alabastid, as we say in these parts)... Miz India say - Honey-pot, why your han' so cold?

Two heartbeat later door slam open and new sweetie-pie bellow - Nevah mine. I foun' my key. Zeb! Puppy-dog! Come look what all I bought!

An' kids is kids. They jus' rush over like she a reg'lar Miz Santy Claus. But then Miss Monica's youngest say - Hey, lady, who are you?

That when Miz India start squeezin' his han' real hard. And you know she got them real pointy, sharp, lacquer nails. I think a little bit a blood come out too.

I mean if she not call him Puppy-dog, they might a made up somethin'. They could a say she like an Avon lady, or maybe an over friendly disoriented stranger. But she call him 'Puppy-dog,' an' she call him 'Zeb'. Not too many disoriented stranger ladies gonna do that.

An' ev'rythin' stan' still for like four heartbeat, till new sweetie-pie look down at them little Texaco heirs and heiresses an say  - Who the hell am I? Who the hell am I?.... Who the hell are you?

That when somebody start shootin'.........


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