An ongoing evolutionary collaborative free-range Atkin's friendly, wardrobe malfunction-free, literary blog. Tastes like chicken, smells like pennies, thinks like Sloths. Hand me your cash, we need an editor.
The Incredible Shrinking Mandolin
Shirl: I was in Nashville, walking down one of the main drags, and while stopping to view a life size statue of Elvis outside a music establishment....
Sam: One pretty little wench approached me. Her hair was fair, her skin appealing. She said her name was Hetty, and she had the air of talent.
Shirl: As all women, I'm told, like to have their photos taken, I offered to hold her camera and take a picture of her beside the Elvis statue. Just at that moment, Bill Monroe, holding his mandolin case, came up and offered to be in the photo too.
Sam: Too bad about that mandolin case that Bill rested upon.. damn roadies. As Mr. Monroe leaned back for the photograph, the cheap case collapsed, sending Bill and his entourage into the audience. Simultaneously, the rest of the band and their manager reacted.
Shirl: The shop keeper stormed out onto the street, concerned for his prized Elvis statue.
"All right, who is responsible for this?" he barked, holding a broken off piece of Elvis's blue suede shoe. "Someone is going to pay dearly!"
Sam: Doctor Scholl, happening by, reared his head as he should have. "God Dammit! These shoes would be nothing without my padding and ergonomic influence!" Sam Philips appeared out of the thickness, and acknowledged the newly recognized shoe technology. He offered a screwdriver.
Shirl: The audience cringed and backed off en masse. Slowly, they disappeared into cars, parks, alleys, stores. Some even had the audacity to enter a shoe store. Hetty on the other foot - I mean hand - approached the store keeper, Clay, and touted that she would be willing to settle things in a fair manner....
Sam: The crowd, inspired by the foreward movement, crammed themselves, in an orderly fashion, into the shoe store. From the back of the crowd, a squat, yet tall woman lurked. She was pissed, and she was a size 17. Ahmerd, the man on the floor, was assigned to her. Fortunately, he was a man with a fetish.
Shirl: Thanks and praise to that guy in the sky, that it was not a foot fetish as one would expect. His was purses. He began to meticulously eye all the crowd's handbags. One in particular caught his eye. It was a man's clutch wallet of sorts, with a key chain attached to a purple key tag and the word "bitch" engraved on it.
Sam: Although the word “bitch” had particular connotations for him, it didn’t matter. “Bitch” had many meanings, the least of which was a hot, hearty woman. She balked at the concept.
"Ohhhh... " he squeaked.
Shirl: Hetty eyed another person lurking in the slipper section. The leopard skin fluffy footwear was being held by Bill Monroe, while his mandolin case, still ajar, had the mate to it protruding from within. She walked over and passed him a spray bottle of leather scent and said, "This adds to the aura of it all." The "bitch clad key ring holder person" winked at old Bill.
Sam: Bill, unaware of his latent penchant for leather, suddenly flashed back to an old episode of Bonanza. Clear in his mind, in glorious high definition, was Lorne Greene. Yes, the sacred Lorne. All 183 pounds of him.
Shirl: He was literally green, only his face had taken on a pizza look. This Halloween stuff really makes one have strange meanderings of the mind. But getting back to the shoe store scene....Hetty again eyed Ahmerd eyeing the man, Jeb (his name tag pinned to his tight fitting deep plunge v -neck t-shirt) and...
(... to be continued)
Shirl: I was in Nashville, walking down one of the main drags, and while stopping to view a life size statue of Elvis outside a music establishment....
Sam: One pretty little wench approached me. Her hair was fair, her skin appealing. She said her name was Hetty, and she had the air of talent.
Shirl: As all women, I'm told, like to have their photos taken, I offered to hold her camera and take a picture of her beside the Elvis statue. Just at that moment, Bill Monroe, holding his mandolin case, came up and offered to be in the photo too.
Sam: Too bad about that mandolin case that Bill rested upon.. damn roadies. As Mr. Monroe leaned back for the photograph, the cheap case collapsed, sending Bill and his entourage into the audience. Simultaneously, the rest of the band and their manager reacted.
Shirl: The shop keeper stormed out onto the street, concerned for his prized Elvis statue.
"All right, who is responsible for this?" he barked, holding a broken off piece of Elvis's blue suede shoe. "Someone is going to pay dearly!"
Sam: Doctor Scholl, happening by, reared his head as he should have. "God Dammit! These shoes would be nothing without my padding and ergonomic influence!" Sam Philips appeared out of the thickness, and acknowledged the newly recognized shoe technology. He offered a screwdriver.
Shirl: The audience cringed and backed off en masse. Slowly, they disappeared into cars, parks, alleys, stores. Some even had the audacity to enter a shoe store. Hetty on the other foot - I mean hand - approached the store keeper, Clay, and touted that she would be willing to settle things in a fair manner....
Sam: The crowd, inspired by the foreward movement, crammed themselves, in an orderly fashion, into the shoe store. From the back of the crowd, a squat, yet tall woman lurked. She was pissed, and she was a size 17. Ahmerd, the man on the floor, was assigned to her. Fortunately, he was a man with a fetish.
Shirl: Thanks and praise to that guy in the sky, that it was not a foot fetish as one would expect. His was purses. He began to meticulously eye all the crowd's handbags. One in particular caught his eye. It was a man's clutch wallet of sorts, with a key chain attached to a purple key tag and the word "bitch" engraved on it.
Sam: Although the word “bitch” had particular connotations for him, it didn’t matter. “Bitch” had many meanings, the least of which was a hot, hearty woman. She balked at the concept.
"Ohhhh... " he squeaked.
Shirl: Hetty eyed another person lurking in the slipper section. The leopard skin fluffy footwear was being held by Bill Monroe, while his mandolin case, still ajar, had the mate to it protruding from within. She walked over and passed him a spray bottle of leather scent and said, "This adds to the aura of it all." The "bitch clad key ring holder person" winked at old Bill.
Sam: Bill, unaware of his latent penchant for leather, suddenly flashed back to an old episode of Bonanza. Clear in his mind, in glorious high definition, was Lorne Greene. Yes, the sacred Lorne. All 183 pounds of him.
Shirl: He was literally green, only his face had taken on a pizza look. This Halloween stuff really makes one have strange meanderings of the mind. But getting back to the shoe store scene....Hetty again eyed Ahmerd eyeing the man, Jeb (his name tag pinned to his tight fitting deep plunge v -neck t-shirt) and...
(... to be continued)
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