which is what she said, but I didn’t believe

“but then I said”

“Who are you talking to this time?” asked Lola. She had been brushing her hair, but always seemed to stop around 144.

Why not just one hundred times? I’d ask her from time to time. Is there a particular reason for-

-a knock on the front door interrupted me and my thoughts.

A man stood on the front step, looking a bit nervous, so I tried to put him at ease and could have said, “What’s on your mind stranger?”, but I said, “Shoot”. That meant that he was to speak his mind, what he wanted to say, but not to fear repercussions.

He had the look of a frightened White Rabbit, but still managed to ask, “Does Lola live here?”

to which I replied, “Does a gun have bullets?” which made him open the collar on his shirt, with his eyes darting from side to side, while he scanned the scenery for quick exit possibilities, just in case.

“but then I said”

“Who are you talking to this time?” asked Lola. She had just been cleaning her guns, but always seemed to stop when there came a knock on the front door.

I dropped what I had been doing, and shot a quick look at Lola to see if she was as hot today, as she was yesterday, but the look in her eye told me to keep my illicit thoughts to myself. “Today might just be the turning point in our relationship” she said, though it worried me when she spoke like that. Today my past might just come knocking on the front door, while you are taking liberties with your wanton stare, and I in my innocent stage, am wondering why I ever said yes to shacking up with you? You’ll remind me about the time I came into your Tattoo Parlor, but I couldn’t make up my mind between a white rabbit or a killer whale?”

A sudden knock on the front door interrupted me in my pristine thoughts, but Lola just kept on whistling wistfully, while she loaded her 30-30 Winchester, just in case!

A swarthy foreign-looking fellow with a pencil-thin mustache was eyeing the names on the mailbox as I opened the door, but just a thin crack, and no more.”What is it?” I might have said, or “Has Pepe sent you?” could also be an option, but when he said, “Is Lola at home? She’s promised me something and now it is time to pay up!”

“Who are you talking to this time?” asked Lola, who was looking at my stopwatch in case we were in the middle of a new Temporal Loop? Her hair lay about her perfectly formed breasts, which were speaking their own language to me. Her eyes were filled with Spanish Passion, or Cayenne Pepper, which in some ways, but not others entirely, were two sides of the same leaf!

We had just smoked a number and were about to do our daily Sunbathing, Au Natural on the sunroof, watching the Volcanoes across the Cook Inlet smoke a number at the same time. I reached over and grabbed a hold of something, I’d been hankering for all day long, when

A sudden sound of our paisley decorated doorbell with the caribou flourishes, was telling us in no uncertain terms and purposes that it was time to inhale again, or this high might just turn into a low. And that was a bummer! in my book anyway.

Lola stretched her legs under the table until her feet found something to occupy her time with, while I was struggling to light my organically grown, no animals hurt in the filming of this movie, nor would we ever eat yellow fin tuna so all dolphins could talk to others, while we were making sweet love.

The doorbell continued to ring, but Lola said, “Take me yo Sex God, I am all yours”, which is what she said, but I didn’t believe a word of it.

but the fellow, whoever he was, got tired of waiting for us to open the door, and went on his way, but would return to explain why he was the focal point for the turning point in our relationship.

-but Lola just said, “Mother never wanted me to brush my hair more than 144 times, or I might lose control” batting her eyelashes and smiling enough to fill the whole room.




In Some Dorky Chicken Suit with

Today, I was

“Wait just a minute there Bunky, you can’t write anything without starting with a title!”

no title

“Oh Lola, I just can’t quite come up with one just yet. I’ve considered “The Moose that wasn’t, or ….I just don’t know yet. Let’s wait to see how things turn out!”

Like I said. Today I was going to participate in the yearly carnival and parade held in

“Uh. There is no yearly carnival, unless you are talking about the one in Homer called, The Homer Winter Carnival, that

“Look Lola. I don’t rain on your parade, so why do you have to do so on mine? If I say there is a Carnival, then you just have to accept that fact, OK?”

Lola gave me her hurt-look then went about her business, while I got my costume, and

“Lola! Have you seen my costume lately?”

“Pretty tall talk for a man who still doesn’t have a title for his story!”

Lola just turned tail and headed away, while I started emptying drawers, no not mine this time, and tossing the odd “delicates for that special night together, fitting both him and her alike!”

Finally, I decided that this unfulfilled costume dilemma was burning daylight, so I just took the Caribou Cart to the town of

“Where is this event taking place?”

Lola was back again, poking her nose into places that. Wait a minute. She usually tells me things like that, but she doesn’t stop me from doing so, now does she? I was just, well that is besides the point, and the scope of this blog, but I might just

Anyway. I had just about gotten to the start of the Carnival, when I started seeing bits and pieces of costumes that had fallen by the wayside, allowing for a colorful melange of

“Why would you use a French word right there?” I followed her finger, pointing towards the next to last word in my sentence, while I used my prerogative an did a fly-by, over the head type of look at what she had been pointing at.

Melange might mean mess, or mixture, but in this case it, but you have to understand that Lola really did want me to poke my nose into her business, which was another colorful word for

I could be a Moose on my head, and a Duck on my feet! I might just return home in a costume that would boggle Lola’s imagination, making her want to “Do it” with a man wearing Duck Feet, while strutting his stuff as the Cock of the

What? That is a common Idiom and shouldn’t be associated with, well, ah. You really have to know what Lola would say in these situations, in order to do her right, right now.

♬Do me wrong, do me right. Tell me lies but hold me tight….but don’t let me be lonely tonight. . James Taylor

I could really belt out tunes like that, but Lola would just sigh and want something that was a mover and a groover, or whatever those young people said these days? We might be telling each other lies like “Benny Hill really was funny”, or “Caribou do cross the street on the Kenai Peninsula,  or the classic “Belly-Button puckering is a sign of a Sexy Bastard!”

Lola would just giggle when I would swear like that, but when we wanted to get down to business, we would pull out the old blackboard and practice our moves, using stick-figures and our language, like “OOH Baby. I like it like that” or my favorite “Don’t do me more wrongly than we would want it rightly!” Lola would pull out the old dictionary and tell me if those were real words, and whether we could use them the next time we played “Strip Scrabble!” or if I was just barking up her wrong side, and wasn’t it better if I tried her on the other side instead?

Well, the costume came and went, just like my thoughts about participating in that Carnival in the town of

Then I hightailed it back home again, wearing my Chicken Suit with

no title two

“Well well well. Almost 700 words and still not title, and lacking the name of these fantasy towns where a Carnival of sorts was to be held, but you got there too late. Then you end up at home again, and want me to get all hot and bothered, just because you are in some Dorky Chicken Suit with





I Kind of Lived There

“Well did you or didn’t you?”

It wasn’t as if I avoided questions like that in my life, but things might just be easier if I worked around them, or swept them under the rug, as it were, if that existed as well.

It might be akin to the question, “Did you do her, or Did you not?” Well, I might have wanted to do so, but what with circumstances as they were at the time, I didn’t think it prudent, doing someone while

“I thought if I put on my language glasses today, I’d be able to understand your Saturday’s Malarkey, but I can see it is going to be a long way with a shortened temper for me today!”

Lola had been outside cleaning the room where we kept our Moose Meat, but having to remove the other various and most likely different types of “Road Kill Special Cuts” that weren’t allowed to share close-quarters with

Lola just sighed and went about her business. Not everything needed to be explained, and not all thoughts needed to become public property, not in her book anyway. She often wondered how she’d ended up here with me, what with that most promising career as Stewardess on the Anchorage Express, working her way to the top, while I was still existing somewhere else, wanting to be a part of the entity called Alaska, but not quite making the grade as it were.

It was on one of those runs between Fairbanks and Anchorage, where fate stepped in and put its foot out, while not expecting anything fabulous or out of the ordinary to occur, whatsoever, but we never know when we might meet someone who will change our lives, now do we?

Lola had been perfecting an idea she had, “Grab N’ Go” meals for the many tourists on the train while

“Ahem” Lola interrupted my thoughts rather suddenly, but I wasn’t an unpleasant thing, like someone eating potato chips in bed, while we should have been doing other things like discussing why Baby Moose Wallpaper didn’t quite fit our lifestyle at this point in time! “Oh Look how cute that wallpaper is?” Lola squealed with delight, as we looked at the wallpaper, conjuring images in my mind of the sounds of little feet running about the cottage, while Lola was herding the Moose home from the High Tundra. She would always do so alone, as it gave her peace in her thoughts to do so, leaving me in a John Lennon type of existence, taking care of the children, while the wife was not being Yoko Ono and

“Ahem” Lola interrupted my thoughts rather suddenly, but I was used to her doing just that, when I tended to ♫ Ramble on….na, na, na. na Now the’s time, the time is now, Sing that song, I’m gonna find a way♫*

-“Would you stop singing Led Zeppelin and finish these thoughts, before you lose me and you forever more!”

“Ahem” Lola interrupted my thoughts rather suddenly whenever my mind tended to wander, but

“Did you live there, or not? Such a simple question to ask, but you have a way about you, making things more difficult than others might do, ”

“I don’t know Lola, but that is not the main point of this writing, though the title might serve to confuse and obfuscate the

“Who in their right mind would use the word, “Obfuscate” in a sentence, this side of Anchorage!?”

“You see ” I said with my question pointed directly at Lola and not anyone else chancing to read this blog

“You see how some people might be confused if I really do live in Alaska.

I kind of lived there, says a lot without saying anything at all, but for those people that think like me, and eat potato chips in bed, when they could use their time for more creative things, would….where was I now?….

I kind of lived there, which made for some interesting observations, without being restricted to being one of those “resident know-it-alls” you know, those people who really did live there, making this fantasy life difficult if not impossible for the rest of us.  It wasn’t as if I lived there all the time, as someone here, might just put me away in a small room with no windows, while they contemplated my fate. No matter.

I kind of lived there, and I get my inspiration from someone who does, as well as the wealth of information on the Internet. Just not all of that information makes it to publication in a form that rings of the truth.

I can see now that Lola is tapping her foot, meaning that I need to get on with my life and not just use/misuse my time right now with mindless reflections.

“Ahem. All I wanted to say was that my skirt on the Anchorage Express was a bit too short for comfort, especially when going from the one car to the other! Would you be a dear and adjust that in your retelling, letting us get on with the story about how you ended up in Alaska……

*Ramble on -Led Zeppelin


A Shotgun Weeding

“Do you” the preacher intoned, while the whole of the congregation were making signs of the cross, while getting ready to duck in case the bullets started to fly!

“Take”. I was reminded of how she had taken me that one fateful night. There I was, so young and unaccustomed to being with a woman like her. Not even coming close to those plastic, blow-up women back home, that Dad used to tell me about, “Son someday, you might just be getting your own Gal” said while stroking her hair and planting a kiss on her…A real woman to satisfy your needs, just like the fine relationship, I’ve made with Ms Blow-Up Sally here. Just keep wishing and hoping, and maybe someday, someday…

“This Woman”. Lola was not just any woman, but if I pointed her out in a Line-Up, then she would not get mad, later in that dark alley on the wrong side of the tracks in Homer Alaska. Not getting mad, but getting even! I always knew in my heart that she was to be that woman, but trying to deal with “This Woman” was an angle, a small bump in the road of life, a shortcut through the brambles and marshlands, ending smack dab in the middle of the Burning Nettle Patch that I had difficulty dealing with. We always used to take one day at a time, which in the Alaskan Summer was an easy thing to do. Sometimes, I’d have to ask her which day this was, forcing her to show me the wall with the many scratchings on it, displaying the many months turned years since our paths crossed and we decided to make a go of it together! Or were they just symbols since that near-fatal incident at that nameless motel? 145 reasons to shut up and change the subject or else!

“To be” My deep-rooted thought patterns might just as well ask that question, “to be, or not to …”. You see, knowing another person is both a challenge and an honor, if that is you manage to survive your first date with her. I remember how I just stood there, next to my Caribou, slicking down my hair on the one side of my head, while shining my sandals on my pants, hoping to make that first impression on her mom and dad a good one. I walked boldly up to her front door, my bouquet of meadow grasses in the one hand, and a box of Kenai Chocolates in the other.

Inside the house were voices. Not pleasant ones, but voices all the same. “What do you see in a boy like that? ” her father yelled, while her mother cried. “Honestly, someone coming from a 1-Caribou Family. What a come-down for a woman of means like yourself.” Lola just kicked the Perma-dust under the carpet while choosing her words, “Dad, Mom. You are talking about the man that I want to share my existence with. A man who will provide for my needs with flying colors!” Her parents started yelling and chiding her last statement “Your needs! Sounds like that young man already has been poking his fishing pole in the wrong fishing hole, if I never! Tell us that you are pregnant, and it’ll save us the trouble of disowning you later on – Hell, we can do the paperwork right now and get it over with!”

Lola just came out of that house, stopping at the threshold, teetering between what was behind, and what was ahead. She just up and ran into my arms, kissing me and whispering, “I just can’t wait any longer to get that ice-cream soda you’ve been promising me….”. Yes siree. From that moment forward, I knew I would have more than just the Family Caribou to warm me at night, of that I was certain!

“Your ……”

“I never was the marrying kind, Miss Lola”, or was it her who said, “We can’t marry one another until the Caribou come home, or we finish our education at Katmai Tech!”

I always wanted to ride on the Volcano Express, but Lola was not one for dodging Volcanic Bombs or outrunning Pyroclastic flows consisting of Aa, or Pahoehoe Lava, while we were out and about on our honeymoon trip. I popped the question on the slopes of Mt Redoubt while her eyes were having trouble focusing due to the sulfurous smells of an impeding eruption. Lola always wanted us to consummate our relationship while traveling on the Volcano Express. We joked about which Volcano would do us the best way, while we chose matching flame-retardant suits for our final journey into the extreme warmth of the inner Caldera. At that moment, with God as my witness, I received a vision of my old Dad, Standing across the Lava Pit, his arm around blow-up Sally, giving me his blessing to do the right thing with Lola.

“I really love giving the old Shotgun a good cleaning in the morning, don’t you Babe?”

Lola and I shared some special things in life. Cleaning her shotgun always made her sentimental about us, and how we met and well, how our relationship developed over time. Sometimes, she’d just cry a bit, rocking along with the barrel, stroking it as if it brought back a memory of her younger years, of her Mom and Dad, or when we talked about marriage, but couldn’t finish those thoughts on an empty stomach, and a filled head.

Just think, if we” a Classic Lola-Line which made us both wonder and smile about being together, just not exactly in the sight of God, and the whole of the Congregation watching while I placed the ring on her finger, saying “With this ring, I….

“Yep” she finished her thoughts by saying “And if you hadn’t been weeding the garden that one day, I happened by with my gun, we’d never have gotten together like we did!”

What a woman!

With me getting the weeding done and her taking pot shots at those damn white rabbits at the same time! It was right then and there, when we knew we were made for each other…


Everyone’s Moose

I didn’t want
everyone’s Moose
but when she asked me
to put my Moose
where my mouth was,
I tried to please,
which I do
when she and I
Moose together,

Before I met her
I can’t really say
that I Moosed before
not alone anyway
but if someone burst into the room
catching me with my Moose down
then I would have to come clean,
dirty clean, that is
and admit

Now we Moose together
since I moved to Alaska
in my mind,
but when I tell others
where I now am,
they just shake their heads
and turn away
before I start telling them
my Moose
and how it has changed my life


Tattoo Emmylou

I was just whistling along the road, thinking about Old Neil and Emmylou who were playing in my mind, while I was weeding the old cabbages, when I thought, A Emmyneil Tattoo! No. It just didn’t sound right, but I’d get around to making it my own, before I

“Are you dreaming again?” asked Lola while she huddled in the corner, nose in a book while sipping some Wanton Whiskey, without the ice. ♬”I’ve got a hankering” she said to herself, while taking a long swig of that Whiskey, “♬I’ve got a hankering to…..” then she started to smile and laughed a bit, then just turned back to her reading, while I wondered what kind of hankering, she was hankering for?

I just slapped the old sleeping mask on and hoped that Lola would take advantage of me, or something, anything to escape her laughter as if she were laughing at a dirty joke, and I wasn’t part of it!

I tossed and turned, while that Emmylou song just rolled around in my head. She and Lola were doing a duet, with the song being interrupted by Lola’s laughter, and whispering in Emmylou’s ear, about, about…No it wasn’t the pedal steel guitar, but

I woke up in a warm sweat, strangely reminiscent of melted ice-cubes…when I reached over to touch Lola but…”Lola. Are you there?” There was only silence to greet me, but I put on my shoes and my Cowboy Hat and went outside in the sunny night while

-but there weren’t any sounds that greeted me, just the hum of the Tundra Crickets and the sound of the ice music coming from the Kenai River as the ice made its way towards the Cook Inlet. I walked along as some images moved alongside my sight, just being a bit blurry in my eyes. A trail of Moose trailing along the side of the outside sheds, just as I came around the corner fully expecting to see Lola. She would find places like that, away from our creature comforts, longing for the wilder side of Alaska, what some people only would dream about.

I took a look at the Caribou, grazing alongside their shed, allowing me to be nuzzled by them seeking out any and everything I might have taken with me. A random Caribou biscuit, or a handful of Catkins or Tamarack Needles. I liked to come out here as well, letting the Alaska Skies drown me in their beauty, taking my mind away as if an eagle had wanted to carry me away to its eyrie, using me as nesting material while the young birds pushed and cried for their mother to return at feeding time.

I felt a slight chill as the sun moved just under the horizon, on its way back up again. I wrapped the memory of Lola’s warm arms around me as I continued my search for her and her laughter. She would light up the room in the winter months, while we would talk about our lives and how lucky we were living and loving in Alaska. Times could be hard, with being alone, when help would be a Godsend, but not having anything to fortify ourselves with, other than our wits and our patience. We knew how to bank the good times, allowing us to save up what we would need, when the hard times would come again.

We never asked each other if life would be better living anyplace other than Alaska, because we knew what the answer would be, never having to ask the question. We knew instinctively that life in Alaska wasn’t for everyone. Some people kept trying to convince themselves, year after year, season come and season go, but it never quite made enough sense to stay. They tried to live out their entire lives during the Summer, hoping against hope that their feelings would remain when the brunt of the winter froze all hope and sent them running back to warmer climes.

I thought a while about someone I had met once. She lived in a dream, where we talked and walked about learning about life and hope, but she wore a smile that spoke of melancholy, and a thought of never being good enough for anyone else. I tried, as well as I could to tell her the reverse, but some things need to be accepted in our hearts, before our minds are convinced of the fact being a truth, and not just a myth we told ourselves to keep us warm and safe at night. We would part about the same time every year, when I had other places to visit, while she continued to exist, without really living. I felt for her, and would often be on the verge of telling her what my feelings wanted me to say, but the feeling has to be mutual, doesn’t it? That’s what I always believed anyway. When she could accept her own place in the grand scheme of things, we could talk together without having to make excuses or kicking the dust for a lack of things to say to each other.

I decided to go back inside at last, knowing that Lola would end up there eventually. We both had a sort of homing pigeon mentality, which told us to seek the warmth of each other’s arms when all else failed us. I found Lola inside, with her just having taken off her coat and looking about trying to figure out where I had gone. We might just as well have passed each other in the dim light, with her following the Moose while I sought out the Caribou, both of us knowing the peace and solitude of such animals and their ways.

Lola’s book was giving off a small amount of heat, as she stood by the stove warming up a cup or two of Cocoa, laughing and pointing at the book as it’s many colors and flavors, lit up the warmth of our faces and the smiles that knew what we wanted out of this life.

I just pulled out the old broom and swept away any thoughts about a Tattoo right now, but that Emmylou song was still rolling around in my head while we turned in for the night. We just lie there, looking out of the window, telling each other tall tales about the fairies and ogres that were living behind the Caribou Shed and how they fell in love and, and,

Then I reached over Lola and turned out the light, falling asleep in each other’s dreams…

If the Hose Fits

“Hey Lola, do you mind pulling on my hose a bit? It seems to be stuck!”

heard in the distance, “sounds like a personal problem to me…”

I hate it when that happens. Trying to water the animals, but the hose won’t cooperate.

“Gosh Lola. Sometimes it shoots out without any problem whatsoever, while other times, I can’t get it to work at all!”

heard in the distance, “sounds like a personal problem to me…”

I might just have to ask the fellows down at the Bent Antler, if they too have such difficulties! Maybe theirs is hard to get working, having to pull and tug at it until their hands get raw in the process?”

-heard in the distance, “sounds like a personal problem to me…”

“Lola, is that another Double Entendre, or something?” I’ve been meaning to read that book, but somebody always seems to get in my way, while I… well I guess, I’ll get around to it sooner or later?

I had gotten up extra early to hitch a ride to the coast, while Lola did her thing with the Caribou Cart. Sometimes, she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and a rifle or two, pointing out imaginary adversaries and blowing them to Kingdom Come! I never asked for details as to who was getting shot, but I felt it to be the best recourse depending on what she thought about me at the time!

I thought of taking a look at those gravels, mentioned of in Soil Survey of Lower Kenai
Peninsula Area, which I have been told will soon be put to music and performed at the Playhouse in

“What?” Sorry about that, but Lola just yelled something and if experience has taught  me anything about her, I’d better stop playing with my hose and hightail it over to her!

I looked over to Mt Redoubt and wondered about having a climb to the top one of these days, but Lola told me something about a dream she had and tends to punch me if I even mention Mt Re-, well, I’m almost inside again, and

“Did I hear you mention the name of that Volcano again? Well. Did I?”

“Hey Lola, what a fine set of boxes you have there! Look like shoe boxes, and if the shoe fits, then

“I’ve loaded my rifles, but we can still shoot the breeze while the safety is still on, unless you want to try my patience a bit more, well?”

Kind of reminds me of the first time, I met Lola. I was down at the local Mom and Pop Grocery Store, when the shopkeeper answered his phone. He started to put Donald Duck Comics and a bottle or two of 7-Up into a bag, then ducked down low under the counter looking for something else. I waited and watched while he pulled out a Rubber Chicken and put it in the bag as well.  He then turned to me and said”Hey Buddy. Want to make some fast cash? Perfectly legal and all. Just keep your head down, and your mouth shut and I’m sure you’ll be fine!”

I wasn’t having the best day selling my Imitation Moose Mats for the front step, and the Imitation Grizzly Bear Rugs were a real hard sell in this Heat Wave of our Alaskan Summer, so I thought, “What the hay!”

I pulled my winter coat around my neck and put on my summer gloves, and waited until the Snow Plow rolled on by, until I thought it was safe enough to journey outside, before the sun went down, this side of Autumn.

It wasn’t that far away, but the signs outside “Danger”, “TNT is safer, try that instead” and “Have you updated your gun-related accident insurance?”

I just rang the doorbell, remembering to duck immediately afterwards, hoping that it was my head, someone was pointing at?

Inside there was a woman. Not just any woman, but a real live, genuine woman with all of the necessary parts and functions, but not that I was trying them out, it was just a feeling I had, that’s all! She  motioned me over to her bed, using an object resembling a 30-30 Winchester, but I have been wrong about those kind of things before!

“What’cha got in the bag, Stranger?” she said, but then “I’d be really careful when you put your hand down inside, and pull what is down there out, re…..a…..l…..sl….ow!”

I did as commanded, and was almost walking backwards when my hand reached down and found the Donald Duck Comics and 7-Up. I thought, I’d wait a bit with the Rubber Chicken, just a thought, that’s all.

While she was reading about the antics of Scrooge McDuck and Donald, and sipping the 7-Up through a straw, I carefully found the Rubber Chicken, and tied it to frame at the foot of her bed.

She just sat up, dropping Donald and her 7-Up and fingering her rifle, saying”What in the world do you think, you are doing with that Rubber Chicken?”

I actually had a million reasons for doing so, but could only say the one of them “I thought you’d get a bit of a laugh, if I tied this Chicken to your bed-frame”!” I then went over to her kitchen, coming back with a cold-compress (no ice) and placed it on her head, before praying!

Lola just lay back and smiled, as if I had pleased her in a way that was, well pleasing! I just told her to lie back while I read about those Ducks, and she sipped the 7-Up out of the straw, and smiled a bit when she saw that Rubber Chicken, at her feet.

We got on pretty good back then, with the one thing leading to the other, when one day, she said”

Can you see what is stuck down this dark hole? I can’t seem to pull it out, but it is getting thicker all the time! And just when we were about to go on our excursions! Now we’ll have to work on it, or there will be hell to pay, when we return!

I just took off my coat, and rolled up my shirt sleeves, while Lola slipped into something more tearable, I mean, comfortable, and the day just went along its way, with this and that happening, but you know what? I won’t need to contact the fellows down at the Bent Antler, as we, the both of us that is, solved the problem together, although it did take us most of the day, and night to do so…

Then I said “Hey Lola, remember the first time we met…….






Beaus and Ribbons

“Whoa Kenai. That’s my boy”.

The cattle had been put to sleep for the night, while I rode into town for a bath and a good stiff drink  without ice. Parked at Cary’s Sweet Shop was one horse. Just one damn Horse, but that’s the name of the town, so I could go along with that!

I walked into Cary’s Sweet Shop just as she came out of the back room, painted up just as pretty as a picture. “Well, Hello Stranger, what is your name?” I just tipped my hat and said, “My given name is Torn, Ma’am, Torn T. Ribbons, but my friends call me Jack!”

When I touched her hands it was like, well like a surge of electricity passing between us. “Now what brings a pretty thing like you to this one horse town?” A whinny was heard in the background made by the town’s namesake and photo opportunity. “Oh” she said, while turning away and dabbing her eyes with her delicate handkerchief, “I was a mail order bride, but he, well, Barney was killed by his former lover just before I arrived. It seems she took out a knife and, and….”sobbing quietly in the background. I just spoke softly and said, “Was it 145 times Miss?”Cary Beau just looked at me like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day. “Well yes it was, but how did you know?”

Just a lucky guess, Ma’am. Just a darn lucky guess.

I took my leave and crossed the tracks passing by the Brothel first, then the Saloon. On the other side was the Church and Meeting Hall, the latter professing “Tonight’s Program: Song of Solomon in its 56th Consecutive Week!”

Sounds like a plan, if I were that kind of person, I thought, but I’d rather get a warm bath and a shot or two Whiskey, straight, before I am going  to do any singing!

I noticed how the last three buildings were on the other side of the tracks from The Sweet Shop. “Just on the wrong side of town, I guess….”

A few hours later found me sitting in a warm bath, washing off the Tundra Dust of the Alaskan Prairie, and feeling the strong Whiskey roll down my throat to places unknown. I thought about going over to the Saloon in a bit, the one bearing the curious name, “Liquor in the Front”.

At the bar, I ordered another drink, An Alaskan Ice Whiskey, just without the ice. A young woman came up to me and asked if I wanted to play a round of Poker in the back room. She looked anything than than innocent, but what did I know about such things? I said, I’d think about it a bit, before deciding, and walked outside into the night air to stretch my legs and….wait a minute. Liquor in the Front, and Poker in the Rear? Sounded a bit contrived, but what the Heck, anything goes on the Alaskan Prairie!

As I just stood there looking at the North Star, Looking at me, a small voice called to me from the far end of town, “Oh, Mr. Ribbons. A very good evening to you!”

“Why Miss Beau. What are you doing outside on such a fine evening as this?”

She motioned me over to the tracks as if she wouldn’t/couldn’t cross over to the other side.

“Oh, I was just feeling a bit lonely, but you know how it is, reading romance novels about a Cowboy and the way he took what he wanted, and she well….She wanted it as well.”

Her eyes told me of a sadness that one night of pleasure and pain wouldn’t be curing. I could be the next man, after the one before, and the one before the next after me, or something like that. I just moseyed on over to her and kissed her on the cheek, and squeezed her hand. “G’night Ma’am. Pleasant Dreams”, then I returned to the wrong side of the tracks.

I just sat there nursing my drink when a woman of means and opportunity came over to me and sat down. “Well, Howdy Ma’am, if you had a definite Motive, we’d probably be hanging from that tree out there for breaking more than one rule in both Testaments, as it were!” I used to use a combination of murder, mayhem and the Bible to woo women over to my way of thinking.

Lola just looked at me. Sizing me up, as it were, while she calmly sipped her Sarsaparilla. “I haven’t seen you around her before, Cowboy. Do you want to enjoy a bit of Liquor in the Front?” she said, while looking me deep in the eyes and uncrossing her pretty legs on that bar stool, revealing, revealing

“I just tipped my hat and replied, “I always liked Poker in the Rear as well, but I am open to new things, how about you?”

Miss Lola just took a long drag on her straw, then pulled out a cigarette. “Light, Ma’am?” I offered to place the cigarette in mouth, just to be friendly and all!”

“No, thank you” she said even though she continued to suck on that cigarette, “I don’t smoke” said rather matter of factly, “Well, neither do I” said while my eyes wandered out of the swinging doors, down the street, across the tracks to, to

“Tell you what” she said, crossing her legs in a definite way, and spitting out the cigarette as if it didn’t taste just right, “When you are ready for some clean sex, you just bring your dirty mind back over those tracks, then we can do the Fairbanks Shuffle together!”

I’d be allowed to keep my hat on, while she would, and I’m sure she would, but the feel of my spurs might hurt her a bit, but then, Yes, but then….

I just walked out of that Saloon with a hankering for something, I was heading in the wrong direction to be getting, but then I’d be keeping all options open, as I hoped Miss Cary Beau would do as well.

Looking up at the sign over her Sweet Shop, I imagined my name to be next to hers, “Beaus and Ribbons” Sweets for the Sweet in you.

“Yep”, I thought to myself. “I really want her to love my sweet in her as well…….”



Tundra Popsicle

19 December 2017. A pre-Lola blog, formerly posted on Rooster.

“My, oh my”
she said to me one winter’s day
“we’re out of ice cream again
too much again”

Too much ice cream
out back in the shed
temptation, desire
her sugary maple smile, too hard
too hard to resist

The day, resembling night
the stars hid their heads
when we considered making love,
but why ruin a budding friendship
with that, eh?

Needing to cool off
from my Canadian heat spell
my winter coat, my white rabbits
running about, teasing me
hiding in their holes
away from me,

A Tundra Popsicle
seemed to do the trick
rather fibrous, but tasty
with her colors, her tangled hair

best when frozen, worst when thawed

Such were my Arctic thoughts today
basking in the temperate zone
here in the Northern Climes

of someplace called Denmark…