News From Town

This here's a replica of my town.
This here’s a replica of my town. The fence is our most prized feature. It’s very tall, and keeps people out who make us feel uncomfortable.
Once in a while I write a letter to my mother, who’s in prison. I speak the language she remembers from the outside, and let her know how things are going in our town. I thought I might share this one with you, so you can enjoy the quaint character of our tiny rural hamlet:

Dear Ma,

Not much been happenin here lately. But here is a few tidbits for ya’ll to chaw on.

A meteor shower drenched our town at two in the mornin. Most of the population slept right through it. But a few unfortunate folk who was outside at that godawful hour got soaked in stardust. They came home pretty lit.

Mrs. Curdle went to our local bakery last year, and caught a yeast infection. A few weeks ago she gave birth to an eight pound loaf of bread. ‘Course we all held a breadcrumb shower for her. She seemed right pleased with the gifts, even though most folks jist gave her a toaster.

A few days ago I kilt me a cockaroach in our house. I done lassoed it, wrestled the critter to the ground, then tied all six of its legs together. Then I jugulated and butchered it with my bowie knife. Our freezer is packed now and, boy howdy! Looks like we folks’ll be enjoying roach steaks for the rest of the whole danged year.

Toothbrushes have went on sale at our local drugstore, and the line outside the store must have gone three blocks, if it weren’t a country mile. It’s not that folks here are addicted to hygiene. It’s just that they’s some mighty curious to know exactly what a toothbrush is.

Well, that’s all the news for now. Oh yeah, we’s all in good health, an’ we hope ya’ll is too. ‘Cept for those 27 stitches I got where I was gored by a horny toad. An’ the missus sprained her ankle slippin in the shower. She was shore surprised when water shot out of that round thing up there with all the holes in it. But ‘sides from that, we’s fine.

Love ‘n Sweetcorn,
Tippy

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24 thoughts on “News From Town

  1. hey! this is definitely/deafeningly material for the weekly television series! if I wuzzn’t sew layzee, i’d hep ya’ with gittin’ an agent or three and startin’ filmin’ this.

    espeshulee the mawdle uv da town!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Paul

    Tippy Homunculus Gnu;

    I been to da ladies dormutories whereas they keeps the lady folk whose disappointed da judge. I seen yer Ma dere – I goes to sees her one a week or soes.. Her and I, we’s having one a dem dere realtiony ship things.

    Wish do so brings me to this here letter. Yer Ma wanted me tooes writ yer back for the letter ya sent. She tolds me tat there were a few errores in yer writing, so doncha go be gettin no big head bout yer writin soes she can unnerstan.She said dat she broughts ya up and if’n ya don wach er moat she’ll puts ya back down.

    Ta start wid, I sees yer blamin’ the meteors fer yer being drunk again. Ta hells creation boy, can ya cum up wid nother excuse? – ya used that one at least once a week when yer crawled home.

    Edna Curdle is a floozie. She knows dat she’s got ta take proferlactics when she goes ta the Baker. Yer can git in truble jist sitting on da can. Sides which, she bends over in fronna dem men far too much and she ain’t got much feelin’ down dere ya know an she jist doan know when ones takin to gettin too close.

    Dem cockroaches are gittin bad. Ya know yer big brudder Jimmie brought dem home from da school as a prject. Da cat knocked over da cage and dey gits away. Well now, dat dere was some rukus, lemme tell ya. But tries as we did we coulnna find em all. I’m glad ya has found a good use fer dem. Doan tell yer Pa, he’ll jist thinks they is beef. An doncha dare use da money ya saves on groceries for dat devils brew ya drinks down at da saloon – jist afour ya blames being lit on the meteors.

    You stays away from dem horny toads Tippster. Ya knows its da lady folks ya should be beddin’ and not no toad. Ah is ashamed ah ya Tippster. Doan ya tells yer sister why da water comes from dem holes cause if she gets too much on her she’ll smells different den dem udder girls and none a da boys will wants her. No need ah tryin’ ta be fancy and smell fancy – good ole down to earth pig wrestlin is the best ways fer a good farm gurl to git herslf a boy.

    Well yer Ma say ‘bye Tippy and doan ya gets all high and mighty bout yer place in life or she says she come up dere and straighten ya out an ya doan wan dat – I’ll writ for ‘er to ya next time I comes ta visit ‘er.

    Yer oncle Tiberius.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Well shit-fire Unk Tiberius, I allus suspected you of bean in a relasheenship wif Ma. You ‘n yer sister could never keep yer paws off’n each other. But yer probly better fer her than my Pa. Hell, wait a cotton-pickin’ minute. Maybe you is my Pa! An’ when I conseeder my other relasheens, eet all makes sense. I’m my own grampa!

      Liked by 2 people

        1. Paul

          PFFFT! You and Gibber are just nblog happy – this here blog, that there blog, here a blog,there a blog, everywhere a blog, blog. I’m gonna sic Pickles on you. Git ’em Pickles, Go git ’em boy! Fang him!

          Liked by 1 person

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