The Process Of De-Monstering 5952

Barton booked the earliest flight possible, which meant we had to be at the airport at four-thirty in the morning. The trip to Charlotte was easy enough because everyone slept until we landed. We then had an hour and a half layover, which allowed for more winks. The flight to Cedar Rapids was a breeze, and we touched down a little after nine-thirty central time. We got our bags, picked up our vehicle, a Kia Rio, which somehow didn’t surprise me. “I’m glad you didn’t splurge,” I told the billionaire. “Fuck it, it’s a car,” he grumbled. He tossed me the keys and off we went.

The forty-five-minute drive to Marenga was pleasant because Barton slept all the way there, which allowed me to maintain my sanity. I pulled into the Wretched Ranch, which was now barren and was greeted by Mel Apple, a realtor handling the sale of the property. Barton and I stepped out of the luxurious vehicle, which Mel Apple clearly had disdain for, and stretched our bones. I then told Apple to show Barton the property while I walked the grounds. “I’ll see you when I get back,” I told the two men who made their way to the house.

I liked the outlay of the property and the vast open space that was perfect for a horse farm, but I love my farm, and I didn’t feel the need to buy a property in Iowa when I had a perfectly good farm back home. As I continued walking through the field, I could see someone planting crops, raising cattle, or any number of things to the property. There is enough around to satisfy your need to get out when the urge hits you, and the quiet is undoubtedly appealing. I don’t know what Barton would do with it, but I figured he would like to check out the property just to say he did it. He’s got a nice setup where he’s at and is almost certainly not interested in a property like this unless he could quickly flip it, which isn’t likely; otherwise, Paulette wouldn’t have called me.

I then thought about what I was going to order at Culver’s.

I found Barton and Apple talking by the stables and asked them what the deal was. “Well, I like this property, Scragg, so I made an offer that the Yarber’s accepted,” the billionaire said. “You’re kidding me.” “No, Sir, and I have plans for this property.” “Such as?” “I’ll tell you later, Mr. Apple and I are going to going over some paperwork.” “Okay, whatever,” I replied.

This is bizarre.

As Barton worked out the final details, I tried to imagine what he was thinking. A half-hour later, he told me that he was ready to get something to eat and that he’ll be back here tomorrow to finish up. “Are you sure about this?” “Never more sure, Scragg.”

On the way to Culver’s, I asked Barton what was on his mind. The billionaire looked at me with a distant look before speaking. “I need a break, Scragg, and I need one now. This will allow me to clear my head while making other folks get their priorities straight. It’s a good move that I won’t regret.” “Are you going to permanently move out here,” I asked. The billionaire burst into laughter. “I’m not moving out here at all,” he replied. “Who is?” “Rene and her brood.” “What?” “I guess you haven’t heard.” “Heard what?” “Riley, Jeremy, and Brandon aren’t doing too good in school, in fact, they’ve been thrown out because of bad behavior. They think they’re better than everyone else and won’t do a goddamn thing, so now Rene and Jordan are in a fucking bind. Something has to be done, Scragg, and I told them that I would help, but they had to listen to what I told them and follow my instructions. I can’t have my grandkids growing up like that; shit, I already have one who is just coming around to realize that she’s nothing special, but it almost killed her. Those little bastards are going to get a dose of reality,” Barton told me. “Alright, but you’ll need help with this,” I told the billionaire. “I know, but I’m working on that.” “I’ll get you some help if you need it.” “I need it.”

I called Dr. Jim Cranston, the vet in Marengo, and asked him if he knew any of those ladies that we hired before the ranch fell apart. “Sure, Scragg, what do you need?” “I’ll call you tomorrow and give you more details, but we’re going to need a couple of ponies and two hardcore gals who can work with spoiled kids.” “What’s the problem?” “It’s sensitive.” “Gotcha, I have two in mind.” “Alright, I’ll be in touch,” I replied.

I didn’t realize that Rene’s kids were such little monsters, although Tabby said they were spoiled brats, getting tossed out of school is another league entirely. “You’re right, Barton, this needs to be dealt with, and Jordan probably doesn’t need to be directing that film; however, I get the feeling this is going to be expensive, so,” I said. The billionaire gave me a wicked grin and nodded. “What about Hannah,” I asked. “She’s the only decent one of the bunch and I hate it that she has to put up with thise three, but that’s alright, their lives are about to change,” Barton said in a steely tone.

Let the process de-monstering begin.

Published in: on October 18, 2018 at 3:31 am  Leave a Comment  
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Iowa On The Fly 5951

I told Blake about G.T. Hackney’s appearance on television and the mentioning of our names by the press. “Why hasn’t he been charged,” my wife asked. “I don’t know, I asked myself the same thing. I called Hernandez who also is perplexed why that hasn’t happened. He also told me that they think the McMillen’s might be in California, but who knows, they haven’t gotten anything else right,” I said. “I’m not going to worry about because it serves no purpose. We’re not involved with them, and all they can do is throw out conjecture, which they’re going to do anyway,” Blake replied. “That’s exactly right, but I wanted you to know that it’s still out there and something is about to go down.” “Whatever it is it will be,” my wife said.

The girls and I were sitting in the living room before supper when Paulette Yarber called me. I was more than a tad surprised to hear from the gal, but I greeted her warmly. “What do I owe the honor,” I asked. “Scragg, are you interested in that ranch,” she asked. “Ranch?” “The Wretched Ranch as you called it.” “Not really, why?” “Because we need to get rid of it. Tyler and I can’t deal with it, and we want to sell ASAP.” “Where are you guys going?” “Texas.” “Greenhorns going to the Longhorn State.” “Whatever!” “Well, how much?” “That’s negotiable.” “You don’t know me very well.” “Fuck it, I’ve had it, so let us know.” “Alright, I need to talk it over with Blake, and I’ll let you know.” “Do it.” “We’ll do.”

So much for pleasantries.

I told Blake about Paulette’s offer, which made her laugh. “Okay, what are you going to do,” she asked. “Go look at the place again.” “When?” “Tomorrow.” “Really?” “Yes, it’s worth a look.” “You’re not seriously considering buying that place, are you?” “I might if it’s the right price.” “Alright.” “I’ll see if Barton wants to go, he’s a land baron.” “That ought to be a fun trip.” “You want to go?” “No, Elmer, I don’t.” “You might be living there.” “Yeah,” Blake replied.

I called Barton, who was game and said he would procure the tickets. I told him I would see him tomorrow morning and then prepared for a trip to Iowa.

I couldn’t imagine moving out there, but it certainly is worth another look. The Yarber’s like nice things even if they tire of them quickly. I closer look of the property might reveal things that could change my mind, or entice Barton to buy the property. “Hey, I get to eat at Culver’s,” I told my wife, who frowned. “I knew you would say that,” she replied. “I’ll be thinking about you.” “No, you won’t.” “What about us,” Elizabeth asked. “I’ll be thinking about all of you.” “Culver’s is great,” Amy declared. “Yep, those Butterburgers hit the spot.” “Elmer.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” Gio and Rayne laughed while my wife pouted.

Iowa on the fly ain’t so bad after all.

Published in: on October 17, 2018 at 8:41 pm  Leave a Comment  
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A Multi-Headed Serpent 5950

Blake went out with her mother to look at some houses this morning while I stayed around the farm. I was lounging on the couch when Marty called and told me that G.T. Hackney was on the television professing his innocence and laying all the blame for the carnage in Warren County on the likes of the McMillen’s and other assorted lowlifes. “These accusations are an outrage and will be proven so. I ‘ve been a man of integrity my entire life and for these accusations to levied against me is not only disgusting but criminal,” G.T. Hackney said, before getting into his SUV and speeding off. The reporter then said that charges are pending for Hackney, which will possibly include capital murder, which made me wonder why the asshole is still free.

G.T. Hackney’s lawyer, a stern-looking man, named John Heberstall then fielded questions with the first one being if his client is innocent. “Of course he is, everyone has the presumption of innocence.” “What do you think Blake Schneider’s role is in all of this?” “I don’t know, go ask her.” “What is your client’s relationship with Bob Miles?” “They’re friends.” “What about Bruce Dowley?” “The same. “The Scragg Man?” “My client doesn’t know the Scragg Man, look, this isn’t about celebrity, so if you have pertinent questions then ask them; otherwise, I have better things to do.” “Does your client have any idea where the McMillen’s are?” “Of course not, if he did he would contact the authorities.” “When do you expect charges to be filed?” “I don’t know, that’s all I have for now,” Heberstall said before getting into his Audi.

I turned off the television and thought about how G.T. Hackney could still be walking around in light of the severity of the crimes that have been committed. Like Heberstall said: everyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty; however, if his name has been mentioned as a member of the Warren County Mafia, which has committed some ungodly crimes, then I would think that the State of Kansas or the Feds have some evidence against him. The McMillen’s are on the run and G.T. Hackney will soon also if they don’t act quickly.

I called Hernandez, who painted a grim picture. “This was a royal clusterfuck, Scragg, and everyone knows it. They better get G.T. into custody because despite him being an old man, he still can flee. The McMillen’s are probably on the West Coast, or that’s what some people are thinking. They’ll get them, but it won’t put an end to the Warren County Mafia because that thing is a multi-headed serpent that keeps growing extremities,” the former D.E.A. Agent said. “Have you heard anything that concerns us,” I then asked. “No.” “That’s all I wanted to know.” “That doesn’t mean you’re safe, Scragg.” “I know that.” “Just as long as you know.”

I hung up the phone and then walked outside to do some work in the yard.

Published in: on October 17, 2018 at 3:09 am  Leave a Comment  
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No Accounting For Taste 5949

I pressure washed the old stables after I got home, which took a good portion of the day. After I finished and cleaned myself up, I joined Blake, Bambi, Maire, Robin, and the kids and grandkids in the living room. My wife was still steaming about the movie, which she said was the most offensive thing she had ever seen. I told her she was being a tad dramatic, but that was okay since she’s cute when she gets that way. “Elmer, this is not funny, that movie is a total disgrace and an affront to decency.” “Oh well, we all can’t be refined and well-mannered.” “Elmer!” Tabby stopped in and congratulated me on a fantastic film. “It has hit written all over it,” she declared. “Thank you, Tabby, but I’m getting a different story from Blake,” I replied. “Oh, we all know how frumpy she is, Scragg.” “Tabby!” “Please, Blake, go drink your exotic teas and hang out with your Hollywood friends who share your righteous indignation at anything fun,” Tabby continued. “Tabby, this is not funny!” “You’re right, Blake, you’re hilarious.” “Tabby!” I laughed, which pissed off my wife. Bambi then burst into hysterics, and that really sent Blake into orbit. “This is just great, Elmer makes an offensive film that denigrates everything decent, yet, you two think it’s hilarious, but I shouldn’t be surprised because it’s about your speed,” my wife rattled off, making herself an even bigger butt. “Oh God, Blake, you need to stop,” Tabby wailed. “Go ahead, laugh, it’s obviously a riot to you!” “So are you.” “You nasty little hussy!” “Hey, Scragg, who wrote the scenes where you raped that boy in the motel room, had sex with Maggs and that man; killed that old lady, raped another young man and then had a threesome; seduced that woman to get to her son; and coined the phrase, “Ain’t That Grand,” Tabby asked. “Why you little,” my wife seethed. “Or how about the scenes where the cowboy is being strangled–in the opening scene–and then gets his throat cut; a woman is sliced open…” “Tabby,” Blake shrieked. “Blake, the reporters got wind of the screening and were asking anyone who they thought was there for an opinion. Fortunately, security chased them off Barton’s property, but they’re snooping. Cullen talked to everyone and told them to keep their mouths shut, especially about people’s reactions. I don’t think it would look good if they learned that you preached how awful this film was and then they dug up what you’ve written, which many people have also condemned,” Tabby said.

My wife was speechless.

“Tabby’s right and you know it. You have an absolute right to hate that film, but be careful what you say because the vultures would love nothing more than to make a hypocrite out of you,” I added. “That is true, Blake,” Maire said. Robin also agreed. “Oh God, thanks for making me out to be a self-righteous fraud,” my wife said. “No one is saying that Blake,” Tabby replied. “I’m kidding, Tabby, can’t you take a joke?” “Sure, Blake, I’ve watched plenty of your videos with a straight face while providing you comfort.” The room erupted into hysterics while my wife fumed. “You people are so awful,” she then screamed. “But we love you, Blake,” Tabby continued. “Oh shut up.”

There is no doubt that “Four for the Road” is an obscene, trashy, and depraved film that isn’t for everyone, especially if you don’t get it, which is okay, but in Blake’s position, it is -precarious for her to let her feelings for the film be known because of some of her work, which is highly controversial. Taste is a funny thing, and there is no accounting for it, so it’s best to leave it alone and enjoy what you like and stay away from what you don’t.

To me, most rom-coms are obscene.

Published in: on October 16, 2018 at 10:20 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Outrageously Disgusting 5948

Cullen called me this morning to tell me that “Four for the Road” has been edited and is ready for release. “Look for a January release,” Cullen told me. “Okay, is that it?” “No, dickhead, we’re showing it this morning, so bring Blake and Bambi.” “Oh God,” I replied. “Johnny and Melvin are on the way down, so be here by nine.”

Oh shit.

I told Blake about the movie, which wasn’t her idea of a good time, but she said she would go. Bambi was all for it, and we got ready to go. “Are we going to be treated to an Oscar-worthy performance, Elmer,” Blake cracked. “Maybe,” I replied, hoping that this would be quick and painless.” I saw Maire and Maggs loading up the kids and asked them where they were going. “To your film, Daddy,” my daughter replied. “Oh.” “Don’t sound so excited, Scragg,” Maggs cackled.

This could really suck.

We arrived at Barton’s Cinema and took our seats. The film started rolling, and the opening scene was funny and effective. My three co-stars then appear, and all hell breaks loose.

Damn, we talked some serious shit.

Between the filthy language and crude gestures, and outrageous dress, the audience was stunned all that was happening on the screen. The scene with the heavyset gals set my wife, Maire, and Robin into conniptions. “Elmer, this is disgusting,” Blake screamed. “Daddy, this is obscene,” Maire hollered. “Daddy, this is awful,” Robin yelled. “Shut up, Scragg is being a hot-blooded male,” Rory declared. “Pig,” Maire bellowed. “Look at Johnny,” Stray howled. “This is an outrage,” Barton said, pretending to be offended. “Shit, you just wish you were there,” Rory fired back. “Go to Hell!” “Look at what Daddy is doing now,” Robin shrieked as I pretended to masturbate while smoking a joint. “Elmer!” “I can see Blake’s input all over this film,” Rory cracked. “Asshole,” my wife seethed. “Did you write this script,” E. Jr. asked. “No, you filthy, uncouth bastard!” “Sorry, Blake.” Michael Sr., who was sitting in the front row, was incapacitated by laughter and laughing so loud that he was causing everyone around him to bust up. When Johnny started doing strange things with a dildo, the audience burst into howls that embarrassed the little man. “Oh my God,” he said in disbelief. Connor then started fondling himself, which was both disgusting and hilarious.

Then came the scene at the BBQ joint.

Shock, revulsion, and laughs filled the theater was the sight of naked men dancing while feeling themselves was bad enough, but when they ran out back and chopped down the oak tree, it was too much. Blake was appalled beyond words while Robin and Maire looked on in horror. Maggs was laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair. “This is utterly without any merit,” Barton screamed. “So are you, now shut up,” Rory hollered back at him. “Daddy’s right, this movie is upsetting and filled with disgusting images,” Rene cried out. “Kinda like you in the morning,” Rory replied. “Fuck you, asshole!” “Daddy’s smoking more dope,” Robin screamed. “What’s Melvin doing,” Maire asked.

A belching contest then broke out between us in the van.

More laughter filled the cinema as we turned the social indiscretion into a symphony. Johnny was especially adept at the art of burping, which was a revelation. “This is perfectly disgusting,” Rene shrieked. “You’re just jealous,” Rory countered. “Fuck you, asshole!”

Some things will never change.

The scene where we all took a dump on the side of the road was another stomach-churning scene that got plenty of laughs and groans. We really didn’t shit, but it sure looked like it, and we used napkins from a fast-food joint to wipe our asses. A strong gust of wing then blows them on the window of a Mercedes–Barton’s Mercedes–the one he didn’t know we used for the film. “Is that my car,” he asked. “Yep,” I replied. “Who gave you permission to use it?” “Jackie,” Cullen replied. “He doesn’t have the authority to do that!” “Actually, I just told him to give me the keys, and he did.” “Is that shit on my window!” “No, it’s a mixture that looks like shit.” “You bastard!” “Hey, thanks for the use of your vehicle.” “I did not give you permission!” “Oh well, what’s done is done.” “Yeah, so be grateful you’re part of such a great film,” James Stike said from the back. “You asshole,” Barton growled at his fellow billionaire.

When the film ended, many in the audience cheered while my wife and a few others gave me looks of scorn. I shrugged and said that it was kinda fun doing the film. “You acted like an idiot,” Blake replied. “Oh well, it wasn’t the first time that happened.” “Elmer!” “Great job, Scragg, it was gloriously disgusting,” Rory declared. “Oh, that’s just great,” my wife shouted. Dad, that was the funniest movie ever,” Michael said before falling in laughter, which caused my wife and daughters to recoil in revulsion. “How can he be the father of those beautiful boys,” Blake said with a look of horror on her face that was priceless. “Paige is their mother,” I replied. “Thank God,” she then said. Michael then started gyrating around with Stike like Johnny and Connor did in the movie, which mortified the little man. “You don’t think anyone else will do that,” he asked me. “No, just idiots like my son-in-law,” I replied. “Okay,” Johnny said. “And they number in the millions,” I added, dampening Johnny’s hopes. “Scragg, you don’t think this will reflect too badly on me,” Connor pleaded. “Of course not, all you did was masturbate, fart, belch, shit in the road, use ungodly profanity, smoke dope, make inane faces, and act like a total imbecile, so what possible consequences could come from that,” I replied. “Scragg!”

Johnny’s phone then rang–it was Honey.

“No, Doyle, it wasn’t that bad,” the little putz pleaded. “Look, it was a comedy…yes, we did shit alongside the road, but not really, it was fake shit…yes, I did belch out a tune, but we all did…yes, we all smoked dope and had cheap sex, but it was all simulated. I’m not crazy!

Melvin grabbed the phone.

“Listen you pompous asshole, we had fun, so go shove it up your ass,” he screamed. “Yeah, I paraded around like an idiot and committed acts of stupidity that I would do again, so up yours,” he hollered before handing the phone back to Johnny, who looked at Stray, who obviously called Honey and gave him a review. “No, Amelia is not here, so lay off…yeah, yeah, yeah. Alright, bye,” Johnny yelled before clicking off.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Elmer, this is an outrage,” Blake continued. “No, it’s fucking hilarious,” I blared. “Elmer!”

Outrageously disgusting is more like it–and I love it!

Published in: on October 16, 2018 at 4:24 am  Leave a Comment  
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Breaking It Down To A Bunch Of Bespectacled Dingbats 5947

I finally got around to going to the studio to talk to the Fuckaroos who had gotten an earful from the Accelerators, Johnny Style, and Cullen about their errant ways. They asked me what the plan is for them, which pissed me off. “There is no plan except for you guys to get your shit together and start playing again,” I replied. “What?” “What did you expect when you came down here,” I asked. “Ethan said that we might be able to join other groups or something like that,” Bob Roppleson replied. “What the fuck.” “Was that not a good plan,” Terry Unger asked. “You’re a fucking genius,” I replied, trying to control my anger. “I don’t think Scragg is too impressed,” Milo Erstad said. “You must be the sage of the group,” I told the dingbat. “Well, I guess we’re fucked,” Mike Mandel said.

I finally lost it.

“You guys bring your instruments,” I screamed. “Yes, Sir.” “Go get’em.” The dickheads ran out of the studio and retrieved their gear while I tried to collect myself. “These dingleberries are pissing me off, Cullen, so you better stick around to make sure I don’t hurt them,” I said. “Will do, Scragg.” The Accelerators came running in with the Vipers to check out the commotion. “You okay, Scragg,” Lance asked. “I’m great; it’s these assholes who might be hurting,” I snapped.

The dickbrains stumbled back into the studio with their gear looking as sorry as whaleshit. Bob Roppleson then asked what he wanted them to do. “Meditate and ponder the meaning of life you stupid cocksucker, now get in that fucking studio and play something!” “What?” I slapped the dingbat and told him he better get some inspiration. I then kicked Unger in the ass, popped Mandel in the back of the head, and gave an elbow to the side to Erstad as they entered the studio. “Let’s see what you fucking drunks can do under pressure,” I said in a calm voice. There was silence in the studio as everyone else watched nervously, waiting for the worst. “Start playing, assholes,” I said. The band set up their gear and began noodling. “I said start playing!”

The Suckaroos then played as if their life depended on it.

They began playing a song about an alcoholic friend who finally succumbs in a place called Eden, which I don’t think is a garden, but a town in South Dakota. Raw, riveting, and played with such passion that it was impossible not to feel every note of the composition. The band immediately went into a second tune about being poor in the middle of nowhere. I believe the title is “Still Here in Where I’ve Always Been” Roppleson’s never sounded better and the band tighter. “The third number, a soft ballad, a new one for this group, called, “Gentle Rain” hit the mark squarely and everyone in the studio was cheering after they finished the song. “That’s all we got,” Roppleson said. “That’s enough for now, I had E. Jr. record it, and I think you’ll agree that you guys played with everything you had. Guys, this is hard work, and there is no guarantee that you’ll be successful, but if you want to do this, then you have to accept that and forge ahead. Do you guys not get along,” I asked them. “No, we get along alright,” Roppleson replied. “Then why do you think you would fare better apart?” “I don’t know?” “Because you’re looking for someone to take guide you to success, which ain’t going to happen. Get your shit together, grow up, and play your music. You guys are good and have the chops to make a living doing this, but it’s a business and you have to treat it as such. Chad, come here,” I told the young bassist of the Vipers. “Yes, Sir,” he asked. “What happened to you before joining the Vipers?” “I was with a band called the Broheims,” he replied. “What happened?” “The million dollars didn’t roll in, and they quit on me,” he said. “Right, but you didn’t and now look at you. Were they as good as these guys?” “No, Sir, you guys are outrageous,” Chad told them. “Yep, so finish writing an album and get back here and record it. Are there any questions?” “No, Sir.” “Good, get these guys on a plane so they can get home quickly and start working,” I told E. Jr. “Yes, Sir.” “Oh yeah, this is it, so don’t fuck up and don’t bother me again with your bullshit,” I added before walking off. “One other thing, booze is counterproductive and deadly, so if you’re drunks, seek treatment, if you’re just stupid young men who think it’s cool to get drunk then you’re just assholes who need a boot up your ass. Either way, cut the shit out,” I told the band.

Some people need a fire lit under them to get them started, which is the case with the Buckaroos. Now that they know they’re not going to be overnight millionaires, perhaps the guys will get their shit together and produce some great music, which they’re capable of.

What a bunch of bespectacled dingbats.

Published in: on October 15, 2018 at 9:00 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Four-Wheelin’ On A Monday 5946

Blake asked me what I was going to do with the Buckaroos, which I hadn’t given a moment’s thought to this morning until she mentioned those idiots. “Tell’em to grow a pair,” I replied. “That’s it?” “Yep.” “”You were awfully hard on them yesterday.” “That’s because they left us high and dry. They drank themselves into oblivion and couldn’t even tour. The more I think about those assholes, the angrier I get because they should be nothing more than an afterthought, yet, they come slinking down here begging for forgiveness and a fresh start, but one that’s arranged by us, which isn’t going to happen,” I said. “So what are you going to do?” “Tell them to get their stuff together and start making music again.” “Are you going to give them a contract?” “Not now.”

Farley then stopped over.

He told me that Eli Zook and C.D.C. aren’t the best match in the world, although they’re getting it done, it’s clear that something is still missing in the band. “It’s not that they hate each other, it’s just that Eli and the rest of the band come from vastly different backgrounds and are having trouble getting in sync,” my son-in-law said. “I figured that much, but can they hang in there until the Swamp Rat Festival runs out,” I asked. “Oh yeah, it ends this weekend, and it’s been a tremendous success; however, everyone says that Eli and C.D.C. aren’t made for each other.” “We’ll see what happens when they get back.” “How is Eli’s mother doing,” Blake asked. “I reckon okay,” I replied. “Cullen said she’s a hard worker and does her job without saying much,” Farley added.

Blake and my son-in-law then gave me a closer look.

“Something on your mind, Elmer,” my wife asked. “Not really, just think about some music stuff.” “About the concert in Greenwood,” Farley asked. “No, I sent Clinton some sausage, cheese, and other snacks, and got an e-mail back from him thanking me. I then got one from Garland Davis, a bassist, and guitarist who does studio work, and he said that Clinton is really bummed about missing out on the Greenwood concert. He also said that he wants to play music but doesn’t have the gumption to make the leap.” “Isn’t he the guy you helped get that job along with a couple of other guys from McSwain,” Farley asked. “Yes, Garland is visiting family. He works up in New York doing session work and loves it. Donnell Sneed and Larry Hill work up there, too.” “That does suck,” Farley said. “Yep, it sure does.” “You’re thinking about Clinton,” Blake asked. “Yes.” “Can you help him?” “Depends on whether he’s interested.” “You want to put him with a combination of the Buckaroos,” Farley asked. “Absolutely not, those idiots are going to sink or swim on their own. If they weren’t such great players, I wouldn’t even consider dealing with them again.” “C.D.C.,” my son-in-law said. “Right, I saw the positive effect that Marshall had on the Jankauskas, and I think Clinton could have the same on Ken, Jimmy, and Robbie, who are talented and gritty as they come but need a guiding hand. Eli served his purpose with them because he needed to learn to play with a band; however, he’s a work in progress that’s going to take time. I can already hear Clinton and those three boys raising a ruckus,” I said. “You’re usually spot-on, Dad.”

I sent Farley over to the office to tell the four dickheads that I would talk to them later today about their future, which is entirely up to them. Blake and I sat at the kitchen table and relaxed for a spell. Bambi was out and about looking at the area trying to decide what she wanted to do. “She’s still not sure what she wants to do, but I think she’ll be moving down here soon because she wants to be near the kids,” Blake said. “Alright,” I replied. “Do you have a lot planned today?” “No, not much at all.” “Want to go four-wheeling?” “Sure.” Blake laughed. “I guess we do have it made if we can go four-wheeling on a Monday,” she said. “True, but let’s do it before something happens,” I replied.

Blake grabbed the keys, and we were the envy of all the rednecks ’round here.

Published in: on October 15, 2018 at 3:32 am  Leave a Comment  
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Drunks, Jams, And Good Times 5945

We were enjoying the day with Bob and Bruce when E. Jr. called. Blake answered and apparently allowed him to bring some people down, which pissed me off. “He said you’ll be glad to see these guys,” she said. “I doubt it,” I replied. “Elmer, be nice.” “It might be fun, Scragg,” Bruce added. “I doubt it.” “Elmer can sometimes be anti-social,” my wife said to her mother.

E. Jr. arrived with a shitload of people that really got my dander up. I recognized The Accelerators and forced a smile. I then saw David Bratton Jr. and the rest of the guys from the Pit Vipers. I greeted David Sr. first and asked how it was like to play with three aging waste cases. “They’re great guys, Scragg, heck, they even let me write songs and sing,” he replied. “Damn, they are desperate,” I replied, which made the band laugh. I shook Bobby, Lance, and Barry’s hands and congratulated them on making a good choice. I then met with the Vipers. Frank Farron and Tracy Staub looked good, as did Chad Cady, who said he was thrilled to be part of such an amazing band. “Why the hell are you in it,” I then asked, which delighted his bandmates. “Is “Mary the Bird” part of the song list,” I then asked, which also brought laughs to the guys. Frank shook his head and then threw up his hands. “Will I ever live that down,” he asked. “What di you think,” I replied. E. Jr. then handed me two CD’s, the new releases from the bands. “Another Trip Down the Road” by The Accelerators, has a cover of a souped-up ’57 Chevy racing down a road. The back had them standing side-by-side in silhouette. “The Pit Vipers” self-titled debut album has a viper with its fangs ready to strike with the guys inside its mouth.  “Alright, cool covers, which one is getting released first,” I asked. “The Vipers, then the Accelerators the following week,” E. Jr. replied. “Excellent, congrats, guys.” Farley came out and greeted the guys followed by Maire.

I then spotted four more guys standing behind the bus that brought everyone down here.

“Hey, get out here,” I hollered. Four guys meekly walked out, and I gave them a closer look and recognized them as the Buckaroos, the talented, but drunken band from South Dakota, who drank themselves off the label. “What the hell are these scumbags doing here,” I asked E. Jr., who knew I wasn’t kidding. “Aah, let me explain,” he stammered. “You better.” “I think they’re worthy of another shot, Scragg, but maybe not in their present form.” “What?” “They’re great players, but perhaps they need a fresh start.” I looked at the goofy looking quartet and smiled. “Okay, introduce yourselves again,” I said. “Bob Roppleson, Sir,” a bespectacled fool stepped forward. “Step a little closer,” I told him. Bob took a few more steps, and I slapped his face. “Next,” I asked. “Terry Unger, Sir,” another glass-wearing asshole said. “Closer,” I growled. Terry closed his eyes and took a few steps and got his face fried. “The next four-eyed idiot,” I snarled. “Mike Mandel,” the moron said as he leaned his face forward. I grabbed his hair and deliver a punch to his gut that sent him to the ground. “Alright, next,” I said. “Milo Erstad,” the last bespectacled dingbat announced while awaiting his fate. “Milo, that’s a mighty Millenial name,” I laughed before slapping him and then knocking the wind out of him with shot the stomach. I walked past Bob and Terry and gave them their gut punches before smiling at the onlookers. “That’s what I call four drunken dingleberries getting their just desserts,” I declared. “I told them you wouldn’t be happy,” E. Jr. said, hoping he wouldn’t meet their fate. “And you were right, Jr.” “Well, what do we do with them now,” the idiot asked. “I thought you had a plan?” “Aah, aah, well, I…aah, hell, just slap me,” Jr. said in despair. “Okay,” I replied before laying a nasty one across his fresh face. “Damn, I didn’t mean that.” “Oh, so you don’t mean what you say?” “No, no, no, I don’t need another slap!” “You fool, you have no idea what to do with these dingleberries, so you dumped them on me, but that’s okay because I have something in mind for them.” “What?” “I’ll tell you later, go buy us dinner,” I snapped. “You mean lunch.” “Jr.!” The moron scurried off while I joined then the rest of the group.

We listened to the Vipers album first, which was a scorcher. The CD opened with “Crawling Out of Hell” a tale about pulling yourself together after an unimaginable tragedy, which was written by David Bratton Jr. who felt every word and note. The next tune, “Not What it Seemed” another blistering number about judging someone or something without knowing the facts, also penned by David. “Forced Exit” a savage ditty about going against traditional norms written by Frank. “Crank It” tells the story of meth addiction in stark detail punctuated by a hellacious solo by David. The song was written by Chad. “Dry Run” a funny tune about looking for booze in a dry county composed by Frank followed. “Pulling the Lever” a caustic take on the music scene by Chad that hits the mark came next. “Dancing Death” a harrowing account of a tornado that killed over fifteen people in Kansas written by Frank that featured a haunting lead by him. “The Days Ahead” a sad story about coping with the death of a loved one co-written by David and Frank followed. “Outta Here” a ditty about taking the leap to do anything out of your comfort zone, and “Stray Dog” an angry composition about fighting bitterness during times of despair. The last two songs were co-written by David and Frank, who have formed a good writing partnership.

Wow, the album smoked with a vengeance.

“Goodness Gracious, that’s unreal,” Bob Roppleson said in awe. “Yeah, man, that’s just pure playing and singing,” Terry Unger added. “Man, we’re not worthy,” Milo Erstad remarked. “I just feel stupid,” Mike Mandel chimed in. “Okay, now that we heard from the dregs of society, does anyone else have anything to say,” I asked. “That was awesome,” Farley declared. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” Rory, who joined us along with Cullen declared. “And it’s right up Blake’s alley,” the Sorcerer added. “They’re great players, I’m just mellow,” my wife replied. “Yeah,” Cullen cracked. “What’s that supposed to mean!” “You guys are tight,” Maire commented. “It is that,” Lance agreed.

We then listened to the four tunes David contributed to the Accelerators new album.

“Closing the Books” a hilarious tune about changing careers in a flash that featured David’s wicked bass playing. “Too Much Crack” another funny ditty about men showing too much that showed off more of Dave’s formidable bass skills. “Screw It” a free-for-all about going for it, which is an excuse to jam and boy do that guys do that, especially David, whose bass playing got Rory wound up. “Why Slap When I Can Punch?” is an all-out jamfest that left us all stunned by the sheer ferocity and virtuosity. Dave’s playing and enthusiasm have made the band a whole better and more fun. “Yep, this is the real deal,” Rory said.

Wern then listened to the rest of the album while continuing the party.

The guys from the Buckaroos stood around waiting for me to give them instructions. I thought about it and decided to give them back to Jr. for the day. “I’ll think about it and do something tomorrow,” I said. “What do I do with them,” he asked. “Good question, you brought them down here, so deal with them.” “They just showed up!” “Oh well, they’re your problem for now, and don’t ever pull a stunt like this again,” I warned him.

I then rejoined the party and chatted with Dave Sr. and Jr. about home and the future.

Published in: on October 14, 2018 at 9:18 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Sunday With The Grandpas 5944

Bob stopped over this morning to apologize for what he said to me yesterday about Caroline’s role in the sex comedy, which wasn’t necessary. “I was mostly joking, but that’s no excuse. I know you’re just a concerned father and I should have taken that into account before rattling off those insults,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, Bob, Caroline told me that she pleaded with you not to tell me, which put you in a bind. She also did the same with everyone else. I wish someone would have told me; however, you guys gave her your word that you wouldn’t, so it’s all good.” “I thought about it last night, and it bothered me. I never considered the fact that Caroline will be doing some nude scenes, which will be a first for her and although they’re tasteful, it’s still awkward. I should have just stayed out of this,” Bob said. “You’re good, Bob, Caroline feels bad that she put you on the spot.” I do, too, we should have told, Elmer, but he admitted that he can be obnoxious, so it’s a…,” Blake said, stopping before she said something cringe-worthy. “What, Blake,” I asked. “Forget it, Elmer,” she replied. “A teachable moment?” “No, see this is what we’re talking about with you,” my wife hollered. “What?” “What you’re doing now.” “What am I doing?” “You’re such a jerk.” “You were going to say something that would have made us wince.” “I was not.” “That’s the curse of academia,” I cracked. “See, see, he’s impossible,” “Okay, I’ll let it go.”

I had to resist the urge to crack another joke.

I invited Bruce over for breakfast, and I began cooking eggs, bacon, grits, and toast. Bruce arrived and chatted with Bob the girls while I worked in the kitchen. When it was ready, the Elizabeth and Amy help me put it on the table. We then sat around the table, said grace, and dug in.

Sunday breakfast is always a special meal.

Bruce told us that he’s going to star in a movie about an elderly man who befriends an angry young man on the edge of real trouble. “The movie is called, “Ernie” which is my character’s name, and we begin filming shortly; probably in a week or two,” he said. “That’s great, who’s project is it,” I asked. “Eileen Olmert’s, and it’s a good script that isn’t preachy but also isn’t course, either.” “It sounds like a good film,” Blake added. “You two are quite the stars,” Bambi remarked. “Aah, we’re just having fun,” Bob replied. “No, they’re stars,” I told her. “Not really,” Bruce said. “Yes, really.” “I agree with Scragg, all your movies are hits, and you guys are on magazine covers and on the television,” Bambi continued. Bob and Bruce smiled and then tried to change the subject. “The new Willie Webb is getting a December release, which means it’s a big-time film,” I said. “Not really, Scragg.” “Yes, really, Bruce.” “I’ll just say I’m a lucky man.” “And a talented one,” I added.

After breakfast, we cleaned up and then took a seat in the living room where Elizabeth and Amy told Bob and Bruce all about their week and what they had planned for this one. The two men listened with their full attention while Blake, Bambi, and I looked on with smiles. Both men are grandfathers, even if they’re not biologically related to any of my grandkids, they’re every bit the grandpa, papa, and beloved elders of the family as if they were blood-related.

And Sunday is the perfect day for them to share their wisdom with us all.

Published in: on October 14, 2018 at 5:19 am  Leave a Comment  
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Mouth Control 5943

We arrived back on the farm to find Caroline talking to Maire and Bob at the picnic tables. We brought the stuff in from Sam’s and then walked outside to join them. My oldest daughter gave me a smile and then asked if I heard about her latest role. “Yes, I heard,” I replied. “It’s a funny movie, Daddy.” “I’m sure it is.” “It is, Scragg,” Bob added. “Did you know before me,” I asked him. “Yes.” “What!” “She didn’t want to hear your guff, Scragg.” “What guff?” “The guff from a sanctimonious hypocrite.” “Sanctimonious hypocrite!” “You heard me!” “Bob is right, Elmer, now zip it,” Blake growled. “I guess I’m just the last to know everything.” “That’s right because you’re an insufferable blowhard,” Bob continued. “Why you.” “Knock it off, Elmer.” “Bob’s in the movie, Daddy, and I know he’s going to be hilarious,” Caroline then told me. “Who does he play?” “My father.” “What!” “Her father,” Blake snapped. “Did you know that?” “Yes.” “Did you know that,” I then asked Maire. “Yes, Daddy.” “What about you,” I then said to Rory. “Yes, Dad.” “Asshole!” “Daddy, we should have told you, but we knew you would act like this, so we thought it best we just wait,” Caroline said. “Caroline is a grown woman who can make her own decisions without the help of her obnoxious old man who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” Bob then said. “Aren’t you just full of criticism today,” I fired back. “Someone needs to tell you how it is.” “I’ve been told all day.” “And you’re still running that mouth of yours.” “I should have been told!” “Why, so we all could have been subjected to your bullshit moralizing and half-baked wisdom about stuff you know nothing about.” “Bob, I’m going to punch you.” “You’ll do no such thing, Daddy, and you’ll accept my decision and be happy about it. It’s so galling that you can do films with sex, nudity, rape, and every other kind of perversion, but when I do a film with a sexual theme you want to get all puritanical on me, which is hypocrisy upon hypocrisy!” “You tell’em, Caroline, the so-called enlightened Scragg is actually Redneck Ralph who is stuck in the dark ages,” Bob added. Blake and Maire were laughing so hard that they could barely stand up while Rory walked off to keep from falling apart in front of me. I seethe, fumed, and became apoplectic, which only served to make me look like a bigger fool. “Fine,” I finally screamed.

There’s that insipid word again.

I sat down at the bench and brooded for a spell. Caroline took ma seat next to me and then put her arm around me. “Daddy, I know this is a different role for me, but it’s not as bad as you think. I understand how you feel, but I’m a grown woman who knows what she is doing.” “I know that, Sweetie.” “Then stop this.” “Elmer, it’s not a silly teen comedy where Caroline will be teasing adolescent boys,” Blake then said. “I know that.”

I then hung my head.

Ah, Christ, we should have told him,” Bob said. “Yes, you should have,” I screamed. “No, I probably wouldn’t have liked the project but I know I couldn’t have stopped you, nor, would I have tried. Yes, I still am overprotective and always will be, but damn, give me a little credit, look at those video games and graphic novels Paige developed,” I said. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” Caroline said. “I understand I have a mouth that can get out of hand, but keep secrets from me is wrong. I wouldn’t stop you from doing a movie.” “I know that, Daddy.” “Alright, let’s not turn this into a drama, I’ve had enough of that today,” I then said. Caroline laughed. “Only you, Daddy.”

With my history, playing the morality card is problematic, yet that doesn’t stop me from running my mouth, nor, does it prevent me from spewing my opinions on marriage, parenting, and other subjects, which are relatively new to me, yet, I expound upon like an expert. It’s no wonder my grown daughter grow weary of my mouth, which is the one thing I need to control more often.

And that’s mighty tough for a know-it-all like me.

Published in: on October 13, 2018 at 7:14 pm  Leave a Comment  
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