As the country song Peep Alan Jackson sings, Don’t rock the jukebox – I wanna hear some Jones. My heart ain’t ready for the Rolling Stones. Nope. Not ready, not ready, not ready for rocking just yet. Rocking chairs, rocking babies, rock-a-byes, Rock of Ages. Thank you, Dolly and Kenny, for those immortal word connections in your own legendary style and why would I possibly remember those crazy words anyway. Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee…holy shit. What does that even mean? Cleft for me, cleft for me? Of course, I see I’ve gone over the edge since Pretty left us today. Oh, what will we ever do without Pretty??? Evidently we’ll listen to country music legends and sing gospel tunes and eat leftovers from all the delicious food the neighbors and family have been bringing to our house the last week since Granny Selma died.
Nothing says lovin’ like something from the oven, and in Texas on Worsham Street we’ve had lots of lovin’ lately. Geez Louise. Can anyone say oink for the pigs we’ve been in the past seven days…give us this day our daily bread all right plus our daily chocolate pound cakes and lemon pound cakes and Italian creme cakes and homemade lemon meringue pies with crisco pie crusts made from scratch and chocolate chip cookies and brownies and fresh blackberry cobbler and barbecue beef brisket and fried chicken and oh yes our daily bread is for sure loaves of white Sunbeam to go with the barbecue because you can’t eat barbecue brisket without a slice or two of white bread. Everybody knows that. I mean, don’t they?
And so we bid farewell to Granny S with heavy hearts and even heavier stomachs, if you catch my drift. I have to say Granny S was as old as dirt and hadn’t been with us in the real world for many years so as much as The Red Man will miss her cheerful Hello Sweet Darling you are co cute and did you say his name is Ned or Fred or Ted every time she saw me I guess I’ll have to say she’s probably better off in the next world since she clearly didn’t belong in this one any more.
I feel sorry for the old woman Slow. I don’t know what she’ll do with her time since she won’t be going to see Granny S over in east county. Maybe she’ll find herself a nice new hobby of some kind. Maybe she’ll find herself a nice new job of some kind. Hah. Who’d want the daffy old twit? At any rate, I guess we’ll be heading back up to South Carolina at some point in the future to live with Pretty again like in the Good Old Days when we all lived together at Casa de Canterbury. That’ll be Good News for Smokey Lonesome Ollie, Paw Licker Annie and Tennis Ball Obsessed Chelsea who will be thrilled to have me Back with the Pack. Hmmm….sounds like Bad News for the Spikester Man. Wonder what’ll happen to him. Not that I care.
Hate it for you, Dude.
Don’t mind me…time for another snack.
Get me outta here, Percy…I’m sniffin’ chicken.
P.S. Thanks to our Sports Fans and Amigos who have sent kind words and good wishes to our family during these past days. Slow and Pretty and the rest of the Gang are very grateful. You’re the best!
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