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Bummer's Monthly Musings

Bummer, who's an ABATE institution, writes one of the most widely read articles in the Outspokin' each month. Now he's also right here on the web! Welcome to the Computer Age, Bummer! ~ Enjoy!

 

 

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Shootin’ the Breeze 

by Bummer

Email: bummer@abate.com

Way back when my oldest son Jason was just a little boy my wife and I decided that he should have a pet.  At the time I was tellin’ this to a friend who had a farm and he replied, “I got just the thing!” and he directed me to the side of the barn and pointed at what I thought was a chicken.  It had only one eye, was missin’ part of a wing and walked with a limp.  It was the ugliest critter I ever saw!  In other words it was waaaaaay cool!

     “That’s not a pet!.”

     “Sure it is....they make great pets.  All ya gotta do is toss some chickenfeed on the ground every now and then.”   So, we put it in a box and tied it to my sissy bar.

     On the way home I thought up various names for the “chicken” [which turned out to be a retired fighting cock].  When I pulled in the drive I saw my wife potting flowers on the front porch, so I shut down the bike,  reached in the box for the bird, put it behind my back, walked up behind her and when she stood up and greeted me I whipped out my cock and she freaked!!

     “AHHH!! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT???”

     “This is Laverne.”

     “Laverne?  That’s a rooster ya dumbass!”

     “How can ya tell?”

     “It has one of those things on it’s head.  It’s called a comb!  [she was raised on a farm] What are you gonna do with it?”

     “It’s a pet for Jason.”

     “They’re mean Bum!  Why don’t we just get him a dog?”

     Well, we haggled for a bit then decided to try it out.  As it turned out the rooster {who immediately became “Verne”} fit in just fine and became my son’s pet.

     One day I was in the shed changin’ the oil on the bike when a friend of mine named Clancy pulled in the drive.  He always wore a huge diamond stud in his ear and when he got off the bike I saw him scratch his ear and the stud fell out onto the ground.  As I was comin’ out of the shed to tell him, Verne came running over and snatched it up.

     “Hey Clancy, Jason’s rooster just got your diamond!”

     He started chasing Verne around, caught him then pried his beak open.  When he did he looked in, looked at me and said, “Ten bucks! I’ll give ya ten bucks for the bird!”

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Bummer's Shootin' the Breeze Page!  

  “You’re kidding, right?”

     “No!...I’m serious as a yuppie at a swap meet!  Cops use psychics to find stuff all the time.  Tell ya what...she charges $50...If we don’t find yer rock, I’ll pay half.  What’s $25?  Ya already lost $1100!”  He agreed, so I arranged a “seance” at my house.

     The night of the festivities found us sitting around our dining room table holding hands by candlelight as “Madam Maria” moaned Verne’s name while staring at what looked suspiciously like an upside down goldfish bowl.

     “VERNE.....VERNE.....SPEAK TO ME VERNE!....What’s that?  Yes, He’s here....He what?...HE WHAT????”  She got right in Clancy’s face and screamed, “YOU ATE VERNE???  YOU MONSTER!!!! ...Yes Verne?”  She looked at Clancy again and informed him, “Verne say’s he forgives you and that your jewel is on the ground by the bottom step of the back porch.” {Where I put it earlier}  After that night Clancy swore he’d never eat poultry again!!

     About a year later I stopped in a local truckstop for breakfast, spied Clancy and sat down beside him.  He almost choked as he exclaimed, “Eggs don’t count Bummer!!”

 >>> P.S. ~This is dedicated to Sergeant Jason Baldwin USAF.  Well, now ya know what really happened to Verne, Big Buddy!.....sorry

That's me, dammit!~Watch here for next month's installment!

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      “I can’t do that!  That’s my son’s pet!”

     “That stud cost me $1000...I’ll give ya $50!”

     “Ya don’t understand...my poor Lil’ Buddy would be heartbroken!”

     “$100!”

     I looked at Verne and all I saw was new saddlebags.

     “JASON!!!”

     I told Jason that Clancy was gonna take Verne and put him in a home for old roosters, but I knew within an hour Clancy’d be kinda takin’ old Verne apart.

     When he didn’t find the diamond he decided it must be buried in the meat, which is physically impossible, but Clancy was never the brightest candle on the cake, so he cooked and ate him!  I can picture him sittin’ there slowly chewing each morsel of that tough old bird, feellin’ for the lost stone.

    About a week later I was walkin’ to the shed and lo and behold I saw the diamond just a-glitterin’ in the grass.  I went to phone Clancy, then stopped.  That’s when I came up with a plan.........

     Now, before I go any further I gotta tell ya ‘bout “Madame Maria”.

     Maria was my wife’s hairdresser.  All her life she was convinced she was psychic.  The problem is she was always wrong about everything.  Every time she predicted something it didn’t happen.  Whenever she’d get a client and try to communicate with their dearly departed, she’d goof up so much the client would get mad and want their money back.

     She tried being a “Pet Psychic” to communicate with people’s pets but messed that up.  Finally she became a “DEAD Pet Psychic”.  Even Maria couldn’t screw that up!  She’d tell people what Fido or Tabby was doin’ in the afterlife and how much they missed their masters.  She actually got clients!  Old ladies called her all the time.  One weird old dude lost his poodle and gave her $200 for a session!

     As I dialed Maria’s number I kept thinkin’, ‘I shouldn’t be doin’ this.’  But I couldn’t control myself.  I was possesed!

     After talkin’ to Maria I next called Clancy.  “Hey old buddy!  I got a great idea....My wife knows a woman who’s a ‘Pet Psychic’.  Maybe she can talk to Verne and find out what he did with your diamond!”

    

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