When we
last left our wandering friends, they were driving in the Northwest and
decided to tune in their awesome new radio to pick up some good Memphis or
Nashville country and western stations. As luck
would have it, Carl locked into a crystal-clear Memphis radio station that
was having a country and western music contest. Carl decided on the spot
that he was going to write a winner, based on the fact that all popular
country and western songs had a common theme.
As Carl told Emma: "It's easy. You just write about gettin' drunk,
evil women, pickup trucks, good dogs, horses, guns, shootin' people,
whiskey, beer, good women, more whiskey, beautiful women, ugly women,
cheatin' women, cheatin' men, gambling, chasin' after women, gettin' drunk
with your buddies, crashin' your truck into rivers and waking up with
nasty hangovers. What could be simpler?"
A few hours later, Carl had his C/W song written and read it to Emma:I saw
her sittin' on a horse while I drove by in my truck,
So I drank some whiskey, and figured I'd try my luck,
I crashed my truck in the river, but saved my gun and dog,
And when I saw her again, she was playing cards on a log, ... now
here's the chorus, Emma ... Oooooooooh,
she was on a log, but she weren't no hog'
And all I had to offer her was whiskey and a wet dog!"
She smiled at me and dealt me seven cards all in a row,
And said, 'Hey stranger, do you want to play or pay?"
I knew right there that it was time for me to go,
Because she was for sure an evil woman, any night or day. Ooooooooh,
she was on a log, but she weren't no hog,
And all I had to offer her was whiskey and a wet dog.
Well I laid my heart on the line, and hoped she wouldn't cheat,
But just in case, I cocked my gun and set it on repeat,
I flipped my cards and saw four jacks, all in a row.
By she tossed over four queens, and I watched my money go.Oooooooohhhhhh,
she was on a log, but she weren't no hog
And all I had to offer her was whiskey and a wet dog.Emma
held up a finger. "Is there more to this song, Carl? Or does she just
sit there on a log and win your money and your dog?" "Well,
yeah, she does win all my money and my dog and my gun, and then disappears
into the night, but I follow her to a bar where she's dancin' with a
lumberjack, and I shoot them both, then get real drunk and run off with an
ugly woman, leave her, rob a bank, get shot, recover, escape from jail,
get caught by a jealous sheriff and he hangs me from a tree. Pretty good,
huh? *** Carl
came up with a name for the song, read it onto a cassette and had Emma
mail it into the contest in Memphis. The name of the song? YOU STOLE MY
HEART AND MY DAWG. A few
hours later, they came across a camping area with a fishing lake, and
hooked The Whale up to the facilities. After a solid supper of fried bacon
ends, black beans, pumpernickel bread and sauerkraut, washed down with a
six pack of Pacifico Mexican beer, they settled down for a well-earned
rest.
Carl and Emma spent the next week relaxing, doing some low-key fishing,
BBQ-ing, and waiting for some word on the contest. Carl was standing on
the shore, watching his red and white bobber jiggle in the water, hoping
for a lunker blue-gill, when the manager of the camp grounds came up and
handed him a portable phone."Yes,
this is Carl. And this better be important. I think I got a bite on the
line. Could be a 30 pound cat fish for all I know." "Hideee,
there. This here is Big Bad Bob from the Memphis Music Makers Contest. I'm
proud as punch and happy as a hampster to tell you that you are one of the
three finalists in our contest." Carl
dropped his rod, and a moment later the red and white bobber, bobbed.
"What? You say I won?" "Not
exactly. But you are one of the three finalists." "Well,
what does that mean?" "It
means that you and the other two finalists get to come to Memphis and
compete for the grand prize. The best part of it is that we send you a
pair of round trip air line tickets and put you up in a class hotel, all
expenses paid. The worst you can do is third place, and that pays $1500.
And as you know, first place is $5000 and a trip to France." "I
didn't know about that trip to France. Why would anyone want to go there
anyways, unless you like to eat snails or frog legs?" "Well-sir,
you can always take the cash equivalent to the trip instead, should you
win. What say, there? Can we count on seeing you in Memphis in two weeks
from today?" Carl
scratched his chin thoughtfully, and the red and white bobber jolted
sharply under the water. A few moments later, his Zebco rod was ripped out
of his hand and slithered down the bank, then disappeared into the water.
Whatever it was, was big. That
rod had entered the water at about 30 miles per hour. Jeez! Here was Carl,
with quite possibly a huge fish on the line, and it was now history, all
because of a phone call. The air
turned blue:
"@%*&&$$&(**@$%(*_+&%$##@@^&*$@#^%#", said
Carl, more or less.
Big Bad Bob was confused. "Say, Carl. Is that a yes or a no? Carl
sighed. "Oh, don't worry, Big Bug Boob. I just lost a fish the size
of an aircraft carrier." "Uhh,
the name is Big Bad Bob." "Right.
That's what I said. You guys back east got wax in your ears, or
something?" "So,
can you make it for the big contest, Carl?" "Oh
sure, you bet. But what kind of contest are we talking about? You draw a
ticket, or what?" "Nope.
The song writers all get up in front of a real live audience and sing
their own songs. The live audience will vote with their applause to
determine the winner. And the best part is that it will be broadcast live!
What do you think of that, Carl? Carl? Carl? Hello?" "Uhh,
I'm here. But what do you mean by saying we got to sing our own songs?
Hells-fire, I ain't no Johnny Cash, ya know." "Hey,
we understand all that, but you see, country and western music is real
music, and we figure the audience would get a kick out of hearing real
people sing the songs that they wrote." Carl
let out an audible gulp. "Well, I'm not so sure about that singing
part. Look, can I think this over a bit ... maybe talk with my wife about
it - and git back to you?" There
was a long pause on the phone. "Hmmm. OK, but we'll need to know by
tomorrow. If you can't make it, we'll have to drop your entry from the
contest. So you think it over and I'll ring you at - say - noon. And good
luck fishing!"
Carl stared out over the lake and watched as his rod left a small wake
behind it as it was towed off to a watery grave by ... something. What to
do, what to do?
*** Will
Carl head east? Will he become the next country and western music star?
Will he panic out and forget about the whole thing? We'll find out next
month. |
