I did this before

A few years ago, when my memory was still intact, I began to jot things down in a Walmart special spiral notebook. A web site was initiated to write the "life and times", adventures, of Billy Bob. Much of my time was wasted in this endeavor, as I never finished it. Writing is not as easy as ya may think. Not that I consider myself any kind of a writer or nuttin like that.....but it's hard.

Yesterday I said something along the lines of....I could write a story bout "Cactus Pete", what is buried out there in my cactus garden.  Not a real grave, but an ornament...conversation piece. Cactus Pete could be anybody I care to choose. A fictional character. One that's not there nor has ever been.

The notion to write a story bout this guy is another one of old Billy Bob's whims....or what ever. The story is there. It's plain as day. So I started writing. I let my mind run wild. Cactus Pete was born.

But before we get too far.....or too excitis, I'm think'n I'll have to pass. Ya see, I spent a good portion of a beautiful day sit'n behind this keyboard, when I should have been do'n something constructive. Like get'n ready to pull out of Deming. Other things are more important in my life than writ'n some silly nonsense story bout somebody that never was.

Well anyhows, I'm including in this post the portion of what I wasted half a day of writing and editing yesterday. Well, maybe not a half a day, but enough to make me reconsider continuing.

It was a cool Septmeber day when (edit)Cactus Pete was born a full fledged native Texas cowboy. Born to Bella Dianna Belvedere, a long time resident of notorious New Orleans. In a little one room adobe shack, on the outskirts of El Paso, Texas, the roar of the Rio Grande River could be heard trickling southward to the Gulf of Mexico. Flow'n over thousands of desolate miles of flat land desert and over the enormous mountains of the Big Bend country. Bella was giving birth to her first and only precious little child she would love throughout all his rambunctious and trying years.

The sun had just risen over the horizon this 24th day of September, 18**. Bella Belvedere lay in a makeshift cot in the corner of the tiny one room adobe she called home. The sounds of dancing and laughter could be heard in the not so distant city of Juarez, Mexico. Above the sounds of the raging river and the joyous sounds from across the border, could be heard the first wild call of a new born child. "Yeee-Ha, damn, hell yeah"!!! Little Pete come into this world all bushy eyed and full of piss and vinigar. He was a perfect specimen by all accounts. Bella lay motionless for the remaining hours of the day. Little Pete screaming his lungs out, his first babbling of vulgarities.

A passing rancher, Dan "dead eye" Diago heard the screams, wimpering and vulgarties of this new born child. On entering the little one room adobe shack, rancher Diago discovered Bella on the cot.  (edit)Little Pete's mother was dead, stiff as a board. His abusive daddy was off in some saloon back in El Paso soaking up tequila and cheap beer. (edit)Little Pete had fallen to the floor. He was covered head to toe with dirt, sweat and tears after many hours of rolling around on the dirt floor. Rancher Dan tenderly picked up this helpless little boy child, sloshed him up and down in a bucket of water to clean him up a bit and wrapped him up in an old gunny sack what was hanging on the wall. This was the beginning of the life of "Cactus Pete". 

As you can see, much editing is yet to be made. Names, dates and characterizations to fit the story line. "Hmmmm, something here reminds me of Billy Bob".

Boy howdy, if'n anybody says it weren't cold last night, they weren't in Deming. Didn't snow or nuttin like that, but damn, it got down to 41 degs last night. We talk'n ya don't go outside in jammies or nuttin like that. Acord'n to the weather folks, it gonna be like this for a week, with daytime temps in the upper 70's to mid 80's. Now that's nice.

Yesterday old "pesky neighbor" Wayne talk me into jump'n on the "billy bike" an go'n all the way round the perimeter of the 10 acre RV park. I says "damn, that's a long way to ride a bike". Well I did. When I get back to "da house", my legs is all shaky an' stuff like that, I says...."damn, ain't gonna do that no more". Later that day Wayne talk me into go'n round again. Hot damn, I'm a "billy bike" rid'n fool.  A hunnert more trips round the park like that, an' old Billy Bob be a marathon bicycle rider.