HAIR OF THE DOG
Ina Baby,
The next mornin’, a nip o’ the hair o’ the dog pulls me together an’ I decide to face the day. I thought I oughta check on Rick on account of I couldn’t remember how he got home or me neither as a matter o’ fact. After some knockin’ on Rick’s door fer some time, a gorgeous babe answers. I walks in an’ seein’ Rick on the other side o’ the room with a nip o’ his own in his hand, I says, Rick, I don’t remember this Goddess anywhere near us two bums last night. Did ya decide to switch sides o’ the fence when I wasn’t lookin’? to which he replies, Buck, this is Nancy. Don’t get any ideas ‘cause she is a patron o’ mine as is her husband. Please to meet ya, Doll, says I. It is my sad misfortune that you are already spoken for. Ya might not know it at first glance but I am always sooner than later found to be irresistible to pretty much all members o’ the fair sex an’ was ya not otherwise affianced, it is my opinion that you an’ I would become very familiar with each other. Rick then puts his arm around my shoulder an’ leads me to the other side o’ the room in front of a big paintin' o' the desert. Buck, says he, Nancy here is admirin’ this landscape. I looks up at the picture an’ says, that’s a good thing, Rick. I bet she ain’t spent two seconds lookin’ at that crazy fuckin’ “Last Supper” o’ yers an’ why would she? That is the work of a very sick man. Then I hear Nancy laughin’ behind us. Buck, says she, I am always glad to meet someone so charmin’, articulate an’ full of self confidence but I am here to look at art, not handsome men. I will consider the landscape, Rick. An’ with that, she turns on her heels, blows us a kiss an’ waltzes her derriere out the door. With my eyes glued to her breathtakin’ backside, I says, Rick, if ya stop paintin’ monkeys burnin’ in hell and start paintin’ that, yer troubles’d be history.
Muchos Besos,
Buck
July 2013
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