Monday, September 9, 2013

Getting In ...and Writing It Down

Getting In... and Writing It Down

            “First off:  You go up there and rascal your way in.  Somehow.  Then you’s BUY.  THEN.. you’s write it down; what you did.  Now THAT is my argue about you.”
            “Getting in, buying or writing the story?”
            “CARN-SOUND-YOU ALL OF IT.  Jesus.”
            “Because you lost out?”
            “Because you DID THAT.”
            “Well I’d been watching Tallmadge’s for YEARS”.
            “WELL SO HAVE I.”
            “So GO IN THERE.”
            “SHE WON’T LET ME IN.”
            “Never let me in before either.”
            “YES you rascal BUT WHY NOW.”
            “I told you; I wrote it down.  YOU READ IT.”
            “I CAN’T READ.”
            “I know that.  But she read it to you you said.”
            “SHE READS IT TO ME OK:  So I get up and tell her that’s that and to stop.”
            “Then you drive right over here with the hissy fit?”
            “Come over and admit defeat like a gentleman.”
            “OH Jesus YOU’S IMPOSSIBLE.”
            “That’s what you always said about Tallmadge’s.  So I thought you’d LIKE my story”
            “SHE IS IMPOSSIBLE.”
            “Not anymore she ain’t; I’m in now.”
            “So what you gotta write it DOWN FOR.  Ain’t that ENOUGH.  You’s TELL’EM HOW you DO IT.  DON’T DO THAT!”
            “They ain’t do’en anything WITH IT.  CAN’T.  Couldn’t even FIGURE a place.  See ‘em STANDING out there all ah gawk. 
            “Well never you mind TELL’EN ‘EM; I don’t NEED THAT anymore than I NEED YOU.”
            “Tallmadge’s is WIDE OPEN.  You don’t OWN that place.”
            “TRIED TO.”
            “But we’ve TALKED about it for TWENTY YEARS.”
            “So you got the barn door open and her STANDING THERE.”
            “Nope:  She was in the back.  Walked all the way through the barn.  She was at her sheep out back”.
            “Jesus she’d ah RUN ME right off if I’d DONE THAT.”
            “She ain’t NO HARM.”
            “WELL; to YOU.”
            “I waited on Mrs. Tallmadge.  Call her that.  Not Kitty.  YOU call her KITTY?”
            “JESUS:  Went to SCHOOL with her.  She ain’t MRS TALLMADGE.  She’s KITTY.”
            “Right.  That’s IT right there.  Probably.
            “NOT probably AT ALL.”
            “Well... she sees you; knows you can’t READ.  Knows you can’t SPELL.  KNOWS you and Frankie STOLE HER DONUTS”.
            “THAT’S ALL a LONG TIME AGO.”
            “All the MORE reason NOT to want-ta SEE YOU.’
            “You’s a miserable rascal is WHAT you ARE.
            “She MARRIED FRANKIE.”
            “An then he DROWN-DEAD.”
            “If you call falling of a boat DRUNK drown-dead.”
            “WHAT do YOU CALL IT?”
            “You’s a MISERABLE RASCAL.”
            “That’s what I was saying about her while I was walk’en BACK through her BARN.”
            “NOW SHE ain’t as TUFF AS ALL THAT.
            “She was wrestling her sheep so figured she’d WRESTLE ME.”
            “You stink’en... THEN WHAT?”
            “Went RIGHT AT HER; SAID ten bucks on that TRUNK.  She had the damn sheep upside down pull’en on its LEG.”
            “So she didn’t just SHOOT YOU.”
            “No.  Never seen her GUN.  I don’t think she’s GOT ONE”.           
            “She got one Frankie’s OLD GUN Eddy SEEN IT ON HER.”
            “That was at her POND with the muskrat hunting.  SHE AIN’T a GUNNER.”
            “GUN YOU she will YOU WATCH OUT!”
            “Well I bought that damn TRUNK and she PULLED that SHEEP UP to sell it to me.”
            “THAT I don’t BELIEVE.”
            “DID TOO; showed her TEN.  Just like I wrote:  UP SHE COME.”
            “THAT just WON’T HAPPEN with HER.”
            “Took the ten”.
            “NOT HER.”
            “YOU NEVER TRIED IT:  She wants MONEY like the rest of ‘em.”
            “SHE’S HEELED.”
            “She ain’t THAT heeled.”
            “Heeled good enough.”
            “She took it and kept taking it; I kept hit ‘en her right up through the barn.”
            “HIT HER for what you got; WHAT HAPPENED to THAT STUFF.”
            “Sold it”
            “Flea market.”
            “All of it?”
            “Most all; some wouldn’t go.”
            “But nothing good?”
            “Nothing; firkin old red but lid cancer.  The trunk.  b-chest.  Boston rocker.”
            “Wicked beat.  HAD the till lid though.  Best was the rug.”
            “Runner you said”.
            “Nothing but from the HOUSE.”
            “Well; paid her one ten ($110) on that.  Sold it one forty.”
            “You PAID WELL.”
            “HAD too; from the house.  COULD SEE THAT.”
            “WHY it out THERE”.
            “Dog ‘arfed on it she said.  She said it SMELLED.  So she chucked it.  Up in the front stall; hung it.  She knew it was good.  Didn’t want it though.”
            “Barf on it?”
            “Couldn’t see ANYTHING.  I didn’t SAY anything either.  ‘Cept... from a  barn you know”.
            “They sniff it?”
“The sniff test?  No sniff test.  Figured on that.”
            “THAT HOUSE... .  So; well, YOU SAID your going BACK.”
            “But not gonna move on the house yet.  Wait.  Work up through that barn again.  You know; get that in there GOOD.  She’s got plenty in there.  Only USES the back.  That’s all NEW there; that SHEEP pens.  The rest is bailed right in.  Up front.
            “Why was the door open?”
            “Yeah couldn’t figure at first but saw she got some bails of that GOOD hay.  PAID FOR THOSE so I figure THERE GOES THE CASH.
            “Wicked rascal you.”
            “Just doing my job, Sir.”
            “Wicked rascal SIR yourself.”
            “I don’t think I know ANYONE to have EVER been in that house.  ANYONE.”
            “Not since Frankie drown-dead I know; no one.  Ever.”
            “I’m getting in.  Then I’m gonna write it down.”

1 comment:

  1. Priorities can change…want into need.
    SPRING OF LIFE…Thanks Uncle Bill, I’ll keep that hatchet forever, I’ll never let it go.
    WINTER OF LIFE…I need a warm coat, mine’s threadbare, I’ll trade you my hatchet for that mackinaw.