No stress Pancakes!

The Hick Story Part one.



It starts out at a place called Cherokees bar. Inside is a fairly large bar and lots of Nascar signs and all kinds of things. Directly in front of you when you walk in the bar is a stage with red carpet and a air brushed eagle with an American flag with a saying Watching from above. I played guitar up there the summer that kids don't do drugs was written to maybe like five people. So I am sitting at the bar and I am having a beer. I don't get lost, I just like beer. The main reason I came to the bar is to people watch so I could mine the shit out of it for short stories. Well I got one, missing teeth and recently departed cremation ashes. More on that in a minute. I am minding my own business watching the somewhat deformed bartender serve drinks. She has a good heart so I'll leave her alone. Next to me a man who I have no doubt likes hair bands from the eighties, looks at my red checkered shirt, and says to me through drunken slurs, Chicken! I say what? That shirt makes me think of going down to the lake and having a chicken picnic. I just smile and sip my beer. This is what I came here to do. This man's name is Steve. He continues to slur at me and I can only understand a few things that he says. Something about living in Austin and partying with Stevie Ray Vaughn and then how his farm house was burned down......I keep sipping my beer and glance every so often at a woman who looks like her face was mashed in. She is wearing purple and drinking a Diet Coke. I feel bad for her and want to know her story but I can only be so much of a vampire. I decide to leave her alone too. Sitting down two stools from me are two guys that are friends of Steve's. They say something or other to me and we laugh. They start talking about my Cardigan sweater and ask me if I am Mr. Rogers. I say no, but that Mr. Rogers had a bunch of Tattoos from when he was in the navy, and that is why he wore them. One of the Guys says he thought that was part of the act. The other guy has, and I kid you not, The most perfect mullet I have ever seen. This isn't Joe dirt pantie-waste, This is loud muffler truck glory even though the truck is an S-10. I mean we are talking about missing tooth smiles and auburn glory. A truly remarkable example. More banter back and forth and one or two cigarettes smoked. Somewhere along the line talk of a thirty pack and playing some darts. Being just arrived in town with nothing better to do, I take them up on their offer. This could be a big mistake but life is about taking risks. End of Part 1