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High Cane Drifter-EC Rated

Tags: humor

I was borned into this world seventy-six years ago. "Maw was touched by an anvil." Later In life I graduated from the Burger King school of cuisine with an autograph diploma of Buck Owens. Mom was proud as Blue Ribbon butter beans. Frozen fries never tasted better.

Between semesters and entres, I met Chlorine. My girl friend. Who lives at a retirement home for old dwarfs and fools. Up until a few weeks ago, she was whoring and detailing Big Wheel tricycles. I ask her to stop her shinannigans. So she quit Toys "R" Us. What she lacks in brains, she makes up for with big flat tits. They looking like a mud flap on my 1946 Harley Knuckle Head. Her clitorus is losing it's elasicity, it dosen't bounce back like it did a couple years ago. It just sticks out and pants like an old dog in the sun.

I thought a clitorus was a Ford sedan.

She also has a great collection of Archie comic books, that I often read. Veronica makes me hard. I spend hours reading as Chlorine makes bathtub gin for the home's employees. I keep telling her that it may stunt the growth of the wee-people.

Usually when visiting I just drive into the lobby and park next to a picture of Hank Crocran and Kitty Wells. Making sure that I place a piece of paper beneath the motor. On occasions it gets the runs, but I usually add a bottle of Kaopectate to my gas tanks on refills.

Three nights ago, before I could open a package of BBQ beef jerky, she got frisky. She undressed and tossed her garter belt. It missed the futon and ricochet off the wall, knocking over a can of talcum powder. Turning the room into a fog bank. Then went out a window. I'm sure the people on Boots Randolph Avenue looked up. Probaly it a Pterodactly or a giant octopus, straight out of a Jules Verne novel.
I finally got a fix on her location by reaching out. I felt something gnawing my genitalia. It was her pet Venis Flytrap plant. Then the damn plant belched and released my penis. Just as it turned me loose I heard a yodlin'. It was either Gene Autry singing or the garbage disposal unit in the kitchen.  
I followed the sound and found her in the kitchen, ironing her tits with a steam iron. She was actually pressing tattoos of Dale  Earnhardt Jr, Little Stevie Wonder, Captain Kangeroo and Duane "Dog" Chapman. An American bounty hunter and part time genius.

There was a knocking at the door, Thinking it the pizza we earlier ordered, I wrapped a towel around my waist before opening the door. The delivery guy handed me the pizza and her garter belt,

After finishing our pizza pie, we fornicated on the futon, in the tub, on top of the fire escape and in the pantry. Accidently breaking her glassed-in ant farm. A gazillon critters in a caravan attacked me. As I was double jointed I scratched my ear with my foot and scooted across the floor.

Prior to that, I had worked as a parking lot attendant at an A&W Root beer stand, then promoted to the salad bar. However, when the septic tank backed up into the garlic brussels sprouts I was fired and accused of industrial espionage for stealing Sizzler's recipe for the salad dressing.
I had my choice of either serving mashed potatoes at a local car wash kiosk or becoming high-sheriff in Jerome, Georgia.
"Ladies an' juntlemen, th' sto'y yer about t'read is true. Th' names have been changed t'proteck th' innercent."
"Bobob Willie Skedaddle: This hyar is th' city. Jerome Jawjah. Ah wawk hyar. Ah's a cop."
In the sugar fields, I would be known as "The High Cane Drifter."
 I spent my first day on the job getting a hankering to the shambles. All leaning to the left. Let's not forget, that this is the home of Jimmy Carter. A life-long Democrat. Walking down the side walk, I heard hallelujahs. Thanking that brother Jimmy Swaggart was preaching the gospel. Amen!
 "Who'll give me a hundred dollars? One hundred dollar bid, now two, now two, will ya give me two...? "
 I was feeling the spirit, by raising my hand and shouting.
 "...two hundred, two and a half, two-fifty, How about two-fifty? fifty? fifty? fifty? I got it! How about two sixty? sixty? sixty? I've got two sixty, now seventy? How about seventy? two-seventy?
 "SOLD! Sold to the gentleman wearing the Russian ushanka cap with ear flaps."
 I was praising the lawd all over the place and acting a fool. Damn near caterwauling in the tongue. Moments later walking home with my second-hand commode.
 The next day I was sworn in by the mayor, standing beneath a picture of Charlie Pride flying his aeroplane over the city. Then given the keys to the cop shop rickshaw sedan. Oscar de Wild, my new partner and cruiser driver. An ex roadie for the Hermans Hermits band. But I don't recall seeing them him in Renfro Valley or on WKRP, Cincinnati.The rickshaw was high performance because my partner had new store bought running shoes. The ones with hot patches glued to the sides. He also resemble Red Sovine. "Ah figger ah hav' a pitcher of Red in mah wallet. "
 "...was hungry an' freezin', done caught a chill. When th' lights of a semi topped th' hill. Lawd, ah sure was glad t'hear them air brakes come on...

"Yo' don't knows fine moosic until ya' hear Red Sovine whine."
 That afternoon while cruising Ernst T. Bass Boulevard, I spotted what appeared to be an abandon wheel chair in front of the Feed and Grain store. My partner slammed his shoes in the dust, skidding and burning rubber from his store nought running shoes. There was no license plates or curb feelers on the vehicle. Just a necklace on the seat. Sort of looked like a rosary and votive candle.Also there was a can of Skoal snuff.

I was also aware that the store bootlegged adult depends and monogrammed condoms.
 "It's aginst th' law start a fire when this hyar Sheriff is on th' clock."
 I called for a SWAT (Sumo With A Taser) team backup, just as a precaution. Then in a crouched position, withdrew my short-baraled blunderbuss paint ball pistol. It misfired and colored my brown boots blue with yellow racing stripes. Just as the shop door open and a little old lady dressed like the flying nun came out swinging a long white cane. Sure that she was attacking me and screaming. "Hey, you, get off of my plow." She had to be as old as Butcher Holler.

"Please dont dont shoot me Sheriff. I'm old and have glagoma and was inquiring inside about cannabi,. Please dont."  

"Whut a cockamamie crock of poo. Whut in tarnation does Kansas an' Oklahoma hafta does wif bustin' th' law?

 She had a back-hoe attached to the chair with a yellow rotating light spinninh. She must have been out of her head, thinking this was Saturday Night Fever. I sure as hell didn't hear the Gatlin Brothers singing. Perhape she was doing a John Dillenger and the backhoe was a front.

 I mediately took to the offense and shot her point blank with three rounds of paint. She dropped her cane and on her hand and knees searched for it. A pewter bowl from her other hand, similar to what monks use to beg for food. I took no chances and capped her ass with two more wads of paints. She fell face first in some ripening (horse apples) manure.
 She starting wailing like a spolied child with words disrespecting the law.  "Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will some day be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on..."

"Oh, shet yer pie hole! Ah's a-gonna read t'yo' yer rice."

 She stating crawling over to the wheelchair. Reaching for the Skoal. A member of SWAT tasared her scrawnny ass, with so many volts and watts that the lights went out in Georgia.
 " Sorry you old bitch. Finners keepers, losers weepers."
 I took a pinch and placed it between my cheek and gum. Spitting a little bit of that sweet tasting stuff
 "Ya'll unner aresst fo' resistin' a peacemaker, statin' a fire in th' city, illegal parkin' an' drivin' an unlicensed vehicle."
I was about to help her until she put the blasphemy on me, making a sign of an X. 

"It was a cwoss, Shewiff. Don't fowget that she is impewsonating Mothew Dwesa." 

Don't fowget that she is impewsonating Mothew Dwesa.

My deputy is a nice enough fellow, but its difficult to understand him, with his speach perdictiment. Im going to recomentd that he go to Sesame Street for learning. If it's good enough for Jose Velicano, then it's good enought for Oscar de Wild.
"Read her, her right's deputy de Wild."

"O say can you see by the dawn's eawwy wight, What so pwoudwy..."

"T'other one ya dadburn fool."

 "Fouw scowe and seven yeaws ago ouw fathews bwought fowf on this continent..."
  I have to frisk you. So bend over and let me look as your hiney quarters

She bent over and spread her cheeks. Spreading her cheeks and farting America, a prosthesis leg fell off. It wasn't until she finished, that Oscar and I dropped our saluting hands.

We locked her up and called the Bishop. He said someting about putting her out to pasture.



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