got a call last night from one little debbie..she's on the brink of madness, i tell you..she called to reserve hunters' weekend with me.. isn't that special? it's august, people...hunters' weekend is november..hello? am i coming in clearly..
i didn't mind though..sure, i was only taking reservations thru labor day, like to leave the schedule open..but she bent my ear, she did..talking about boys, and camo, and guns, and hunters' weekend.. we've spent many of them together..
last year little debbie had acquired a taste for straight bourbon..and they served her a fishbowl of it, it was a joke of a drink..everybody in the place was winking and smiling, don't ya know..little debbie was out on the town and feeling alright..
we met a ferrier by the name the name of bud..and let me tell you he was geeky, but little debbie was inebriated and geeking pretty hardcore herself..
it really was a magical little intro..bud introduced himself and told little d she was lovely, and what was her name?...she told him and asked what he did for a living..to which he replied, "i'm a ferrier, i shod horses, mam"
debbie was horrified..she turned to me and said, "shoe, he shot horses"
i said i heard him and i didn't understand why he was so proud of it..but shit, it was hunters' weekend and all, when in rome..
you could see the white picket fence and two countrified children going up in flames in little debbie's terrified drunken gaze...
if only the night had ended there, but hunters' weekends never do..but that's a tale for another time...
little debbie called me a week later laughing hysterically..she was stopped at a light behind a pickup that had a bumpersticker that read, "save a horse, ride a ferrier"