Wild One?.....no not really

Do you know how hard it is to try to go back in time and write a story of your youth? When half your brain cells have taken an "old age" break, the other half don't even remember what day it is? When the day comes that only 25% of my brain cells are still awake, I can look back at this blog and recall what I had long forgotten.

I had to delete a couple comments last night. Not because they questioned the accuracy of my accounts, but due to the use of offensive language. This person questioned the time it took to change the starter on "that jeep" where I had said it took 17 minutes to perform. He's not from Texas, so he doesn't know that Texans live by the old code of the west...."never lie to yer momma"....or to a stranger, to a lover or to the government. I take pride in what I have to say....an' it ain't nuttin but the truth. Ya see, it's like this. Since I had done took that starter off  "that jeep" a couple week ago, I knowed exactly what tools I gonna need and the sequence of removal. The necessary tools was in a little plastic container, so there was no need to crawl up under there to figger out what tools and sizes was necessary. They was right there beside me along with the brand spank'n new starter. Before I climbed under there, I says...."how long this gonna take Billy Bob"? So's I timed myself. Yup....17 minutes exactly. Give or take a few seconds. "Damn Billy Bob, couldn't ya said all that in less words"? 

Now we come to the length of my silly stories. Since I like to write bout "The Adventures of Billy Bob", I like to be as accurate and precise as possible, sometime use'n words I never hear of before. As for be'n a "wild one", I don't think of myself as such.....MsB. Just a normal, half redneck all American boy.

I found many years ago that 2 liner accounts of a story is not only  B  O  R  I  N  G, but leaves the reader lost in the story. Ya got to have some spice. Details. A little humor. Yup, that what the old Billy Bob like....a little humor an' lot's of details.

Today there will be no story. Not 'cause I ain't got none to tell, but ain't got enough brain cells awake yet to recall the events of my life what might be considered interesting read'n.

Well, maybe just one little short one. Ya see, Billy Bob liked to go fish'n. Me and Gerry took off up to the lake in the old '51 Studebaker. We was gonna catch us up some them native trout in the creeks an' streams. We was traips'n through the weeds an' such and I comes up on....yes, a pissed off rattlesnake. Scare hell out me I betcha....that what he did. After I gets over all the scream'n an' back peddl'n, I nodges him with my fish pole to get him to calmly leave the scene. Damn, he done bite my fish pole. I'll just kick him out the way, that what I'll do....then go on down to the stream and catch me up some fish. Nope, he reach out to bite me right on the end my foot. Clamp his fangs down on the toe of my combat/hike'n boot he did. Now I gots a rattlesnake stuck to the end my boot. My toes was all wad up into a little fist inside that boot so there no way I gonna die from no snake bite. So here I am, danc'n round with a snake hang'n on for dear life to the end my boot , a fish'n pole in my hand and there ol' Gerry over there laugh his ass off. So's I swak that snake with my fish pole....Bam, swak him a good 'un. I all shook up ya know. Bout a hunnert time I swak that snake with my fish pole, what is now all broke to hell an' gone. By this time that snake is come loose from my boot an' strik'n at anything what moved. Since I'm all ready danc'n round like a fool, I stomps that poor snake to death. As much as I hate to kill a snake, this one I felt I had no other choice at the time. Plus he scare the hell out me. God rest his soul.

Yup....wind is blow'n up a gale again today. Camp chairs blowed all over the yard. Ain't gonna be much done outside that for sure.

Did I ever tell ya bout the time......