Windy Wilson sipped at his coffee. Oh good. Doc
gave us another topic.
“Sports,” Windy said. “thems my putner fav-o-rite things … well,
‘long with dogs … and country musicals and that kinder thing.”
The guys at the philosophy counter of the Mule Barn truck stop
grinned at Windy, who has yet to encounter a sentence or thought he
couldn’t improve.
“So,” said Steve, the tall cowboy of the bunch, “what’s your
favorite sport, Windy?”
“That’d have to be individuated sinchernized swimmin’ I think. Or
mebbe them ribbons them little flippitly-floppity girls swing ‘round
so it looks like they’re in trouble.”
“But Windy,” Doc put in, “those are girl events.”
“Yeah they are,” Windy said, nodding. “But there’s somethin’ about
‘em, you know? Must be the cord-i-nation or somethin’. Anyhow, I
like ‘em.” [to top of second
column] |
“Always had a cowboy and hunting guide and camp cook
figured for more manly sports, Windy. You know … shooting, rodeo,
football …”
“Ahh… football! Why yessir, you definite hit on one
of my pet sports. Love that there football. Why, at halftime them
girls come out with their pommy poms and dance ‘round in shorty
shorts …”
I think we all get the picture, don’t you?
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
|