JUST BEING HOOTIE

It's been a busy time around the old campfire, podners. Hootie's been chasin' ground squirrels all day long. There's a whole bunch of 'em eatin' up all the chestnuts as they fall. The damned gray squirrels are gittin' pissed, too, 'cause they re up in the tree knockin' 'em off, and the ground squirrels are gettin' 'em all. And I'm mad at all of them 'cause I have to pick up the damned burrs. Ouch, that smarts!

A while back, I joined up with the WV Bloggers. Put a few on and answered a few. Funny thing, though. It seems that when I answer , the conversation stops, most of the time. Except of course on the long running ones that don't even stop for trains, bells or whistles. But, anyhoo--

In response to a statement that someone wanted to know what was going on before the Big Bang, I simply told the truth and the thing stopped dead. Oh, what I said was that I had asked Hootie (you realize he is THE source of all wisdom, of course. Why else would he wear those big-assed hornrimmed glasses that make him look like old Howland?) and he was very quick to detail it out for me. So, I( paraphrased what he told me as follows--

Jake and his buddies were having a poker game, you know, one of those endless ones (well, why not, they had a few spare ages to do it in, after all the baby wasn't squalling and the car didn't need new tires, and the woodpile was up to the yingyang anyway), and Jake (He never did cotton to that other name people (people came later than this explanation, by the way) tried to hang on Him later on, you know, Jehovah, or something like that. Anyhowsomever, I get carried away (No, dammit, Hootie, I did NOT say that!).

Well, anyway, Jake had just gotten the hand He had been looking for for ages, and He just knew He had them all beaten, hands down beaten bad. But you know Jake. He never was able to keep a secret or stay hidden. His face showed everything He thought, which was generally a good thing. But BAD in poker. Old Satan (the one before the United States), he looked up at Jakes face and just knew what had happened. Nobody stands pat in a poker game unless they really do have it all. But Jake did, and led the betting with three brand new universes he was just polishing off. Satan, knowing that he might be able to run a bluff on the kid, thought he had the opportunity now to pull off a real coup, and saw His bet and raised Him three belly dancers with no veils (no, belly dancers are not real people, they just seem that way. Pinch their *&* and they blow up and fly away on the wind-or leave you sitting there sucking wind.)

Jake winced noticeably, but was committed; after all, He did have a pat hand, couldn't get beaten, and by dingus, he was not going to back down this time. Besides that , he just Knew that He probably had them, hands down. So Jake raises back by throwing Israel and Iran onto the pile. Satan knew that he had His number now, so he came back and saw that raise with Pakistan and Iraq and Syria, then just to put the squeeze on tight, laid Jezebel and Delilah both on the table.

Jake was so shaken by this turn of events that He wavered for a moment, just long enough for Satan to say, "So you're giving up, gonna throw in the cards. Good!", swept the table clean into his grouch bag and went over to Moes Tavern for a few beers to celebrate. Jake sat there stunned, for a few millennia, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened to Him, when He KNEW he had them all, hands down.

After pondering for a while, He thought that just maybe He would go over to Moes too. And the closer He got, the louder the music was, and the sound of merriment was in the air. He walked through the door and saw that Satan had already gotten all the women and none was left for Him. Jake was feeling kind of randy and now He didn't have a chance at any of the them, and He yelled, "".

And that was the BIG BANG.



Take it for what it's worth, but that's the way Hootie told it to me. And that's the Gospel truth, aint it, Hootie?

Well, what in the name of goodbillyhell are you doing now, Hootie?

I don't care if you aint had your supper, get that damned mouse off the keyboard. Don't you know it belongs on that pad? Stupid owl. And yelling like that makes me think you're a screech owl, too. Well, suck it up , Buddie. I aint going to change. And just make sure to keep it there, why do you think they call it a mousepad, anyhow?

Goodnight!