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Puppy Dog Tongue

Tags: musings, humor

At dusk twilight and the sun crowns over the horizon of yesterday's song. I will remember the days of September when granny served blackeye peas and cornbread. Prayers were said and my puppy dog slurped with a puppy dog tongue.

Vic Damone gave granny the vapors and Jim Nabors was on TV. Constipation was in, the chits were out at the old ball game. Cracker Jacks had a prize.

Grandpa worked at the sawmill, making sure we were fed and bought me a pair of roller skates, with a key on a string. Politicians lied and drove around in big cars and never paid the piper. But we still had Quaker Oats and cream.   

The bumper-jack of grandpa's 1957 DeSoto was used to support one end of the single-wide second-hand trailer bought at an auction. Proceeds going to aid the mayor's drinking habit. Also to help with his wife's facial plastic surgery. She looked like Qusamoto with a goiter.

Aunt Thelma shared her chewing tobacco with granny, as they discussed Thelma's trip to the "Big House" to visit her latest squeeze. Incidentally, Thelma was a Republican inbred by a preacher with tattoos. She had a mustache that she waxed with Vick Salve.

We went to church on Sunday and set in a pew, but I still had knots in my shoes with mismatched argyle socks. The choir sang Rock of Ages and the pedal pusher at the organ went to sleep.    

Bologna was on sale at the A&P. An extra nickel would buy you cheese. Tomatoes were homegrown and didn't taste as if they were cloned from a shoebox. Buster Brown shoes were the rage and cost an arm and leg. But granny had a prosthetic arm and teeth. Oh! How she could curse.     

Roy Acuff sang at the Rialto about some speckled bird, but it may have been a canary, chased buy a bad ol' putty tat. Jesus still loves me because Dr. Zeuss said so. My Jack-in-Box lost its spring and my puppy dog slurped with a puppy dog tongue.

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