Oscar (1)

This is the story of a fish named Oscar and a cat named Kitty-Puss. This all took place long ago and far away, when I was living in Shelly’s Trailer Park off of Fish Hatchery Road outside a quiet little college town known as Huntsville.
I had a small fifties style trailer, about twenty-five years old and so the rent was reasonable, and it sufficed for the needs of a college student. Inside it was not very roomy, as you came in the front door, there was a bar or counter coming out from the opposite wall a little better than half way across the trailer, dividing the kitchen from the living room, the kitchen being the front of the trailer. The living room was pretty much square, with a hall-way against the back wall leading to the bedroom and bathroom.
I had a twenty-five inch color console television which was getting to be pretty old; I had picked it up at a yard sale, along with a nice full size couch, and a coffee table. I also had a Kenwood stereo amp, tuner, and a Roberts reel to reel tape recorder, along with two Warf Dale theater speakers, which stood thirty inches high. So as you can imagine, there was not a whole lot of room in this ‘living room.’ I had the TV up against the bar, and the couch opposite of it against the wall, the coffee table in front of it. One Speaker was to the left of the TV with the stereo, tuner and taper recorder stacked on top of it. I had the other speaker to the right and in front of the couch, it was so close I could use it as an end table.
Now I’m not sure I remember how I came to have this cat, Kitty-Puss, but she was a young grey tiger, not very big, maybe eight pounds, but warm hearted and friendly. She would sit in your lap and purr, she would snuggle with you, and rub her head on you; she was just an all around ideal cat. Never saw a temper in her at all. I had taught her to eat in the kitchen at her bowl or outside, but that was it, at her bowl or outside, and she was good at this rule, so we got along fine.
I also had a thirty gallon aquarium sitting on top of the TV, it was beautiful, I had angel fish, red tail sharks, polka dot cat-fish, mollies, guppies, silver dollars, a beta fighting fish, gold fish; there were plants in it, a sunken ship, a sign said no fishing, just an all around nice aquarium. My friends would marvel over it and of course the cat was intrigued. But it was covered, had a nice light, so the cat and the fish got along dandy.
Then one day this fellow, Jimbo, moves in next door, another college student and he has a big dog. Big!! Dog. Uriah-Heap is his name. This critter is a cross between a Great Dane and a Black Lab. So it’s pretty much the size of the Dane, but with the temperament and color of the Lab. Just a big black friendly beast, there wasn’t a mean bone in this animal’s body.
Now Kitty-Puss pretty much got along with all the dogs, for there were quite a number of them in this trailer park, four or five anyway. She would cuddle with them, purr at them, sit on them, rub on them and generally got along. Well turns out she didn’t know Uriah-Heap all that well and was just a bit leery of him.
So we are sitting and standing around my front porch, which is no more than a four-foot square sitting in front of my door. Jimbo and myself and our girl friends, shooting the breeze, talking about school, life and what have you. I was sitting on the porch, with my feet on the first step and Kitty-Puss sitting next to me, as she does, rubbing on me and purring to beat the band. When out of nowhere, Uriah-Heap comes running up, right to the porch, and sticks his face right in the face of Kitty-Puss, and barks, “Wolf”. Well apparently this was not the thing to do to Kitty-Puss, cause without a word, she latched onto Uriah-Heap’s face with all twenty claws, and held fast. So now we have a one-hundred thirty pound dog dancing about the yard, squeeling, and shaking his head, with an eight pound cat attached to his face, via her claws. Well we started laughing, but the dog didn’t think it was so funny, for he continued to dance, squeal and shake his head until the cat finally gave it up and turned lose, and came back over and sat back down next to me. Now the cat was untouched, but the poor dog, was a holy, bloody mess, and off he went to hid. Well, Uriah-Heap never barked in Kitty-Puss’ face again. But that’s not what this story is about.

Hey from the Windy City!!

Boy, when they say windy, their not talkin’ ’bout a room full of politicians. I’m sittin’ in a twenty-two thousand pound truck, and I’m rocking like I was in grandmaw’s chair. My nose is blue, my ears is blue, my fingers is blue, My bloody toes is blue!! There something else blue, but I won’t go into it. (they bury people who are blue, don’t they?) I need some heat!! A fire, a match, some bloody Ben Gay, SOMETHING! If’n I don’t thaw out purdy soon, their gonna shove a broom up my butt and serve me up as TRUCK DRIVER on a STICK!

You know down in Texas (where people got good sense) we keep this kind weather locked up in a little box, we call it THE FREEZER!! But Nooooo! Up here they let this crap run around loose. The rivers is froze, the lakes is froze, the roads is froze, the toilets is froze, MY SNOT IS FROZE!! I’m pickin’ ice cubes outta my nose. Please don’t sneak up behind me and say boo!! Are my bloody pants a be froze.

I slam the door on my truck, and it shattered, and broke in to little pieces, man was I relieved when it turned out to be a layer of ice. I live in an Igloo. I’m a bloody Eskimo!! With a Texas draw. Get me the hell outta here!!

Your favorite Eskimo ©

George Henry Nichols

Hey from Charlotte!
Man I glad to be back down in the south where they call 40 degrees cold! I ask them in Maine why they bothered with the zero when it got so much colder than that, they said, “Zero defines the seasons, in the summer it’s above zero, in the winter, it ain’t.”

Up in Maine I spit 0n the ground and instead of splat! I got plink, plink, dink, dink, crack, shatter. It’s the only place I’ve been where you can spit in your hand and throw a rock! At least in the south the kids have to find a damn rock before they can throw it.

It was so cold I had to put the anti-freeze in the coffee, and the engine, you just don’t dare kill it! I sneezed on the guy next to me, and they took him to the hospital for shotgun wounds.

It was so damn cold you could get a ticket for driving drunk on the lake. Not because you were on the lake, but because you were drunk. The traffic on the lake was so heavy they had traffic signs. ‘Caution, fishing village ahead,’ and you’re miles from shore.

But the people of Maine truly are concerned about your well-being. It got to be about lunch and I was going to go dig around in the trash can for some thing to eat, but Nooooo! They saved me, on the can it said, ‘For Your Good Health, Can Picking Prohibited!’ So I went to a restaurant instead. And they have little signs everywhere, ‘Please Do Not Eat the Yellow Snow!’ Am I a lucky fellow or what, I thought it was banana flavored, but Noooo! Apparently they are saving it for posterity, and here I would have eaten it up!

I had a moose come and sniff up my butt, talk about intimidating, trying to explain to a 1200 pound moose that not only are you not a female, but oddly enough, not a moose at all, and sniffing up your butt would be, well unproductive.

Man, am I glad to be back in the south where no one gives a damn if you dine out of the garbage cans and if you eat the yellow snow, it’s funny!! Where if you drive on the lake, you use something called A BOAT!!! And at least in the south, the deer find YOU intimidating! ©

George Henry Nichols

Hey from Bangor

Hey from Bangor,
The weather man said it was going to be ten below zero. What the hell good is a ZERO, if we godda get ten below that! It’s so bloody cold I stopped to take a leak and had to use a cork screw to find my pecker, then I peed a stalagmite. The state is so hard up for money, on my way back I noticed a sign said, “See natural amber formation, $1.00

Ya know when I bought this truck they said it had 13 speeds, well I can find ‘R’, ‘N’ and ‘L’ but I be damned if I can find one that says ‘D’. But one good thing, as an old man, they can’t tell if I’m shiftin’ gears or passin’ gas….???? And….Uhhhhhhhh….. Well???... I ain’t sayin’.

I passed a trooper pointin’ a hair dryer at me (you know all them troopers got a hair dryer) and then he pulled me over. “Can’t you read?? That sign back there said trucks and trailers 55 mph!” I said, “sure I can read, I got one of each, that’s 110 mph, and I was only doin’ 85.” He said, “Boy! Where did you get your license?” I said, “The Jack Daniels’ School of Truck Drivin’, Coke was my sponsor.” He wrote me a ticket.

You know I weigh eighty thousand pounds, Eighty thousand pounds goes down hill real good, those little econo cars go pretty fast too when they all pile up on your front bumper going down a steep grade. A trooper pulled me over and said. “You know you’re shoven all them cars down this mountain.” “Just doing my part to conserve energy, sir.” He wrote me a ticket.
You know the trouble with little econo cars, they’re hard to wash off your grill.
I just love to teach them how to spell ‘Peterbilt’ backwards (as it appears in their rear view mirror) right before they’re sucked up into my fan.

I got lost in a residenual neighborhood and picked up a thump, thump, thump. A cop pulled me over and said, “You just ran over a little kid on a tricycle and he’s stuck in your duals!!” I said, “Thats all right. I saw him, he had on a safety helmet, and when I pick up some speed, it’ill throw him out.” He wrote me a ticket.

A lot of trucks have a sign on them that say, ‘No lot lizards’.
I got one on my truck says, ‘Lot lizards welcome, I need a new pair of boots’.

I bought a 500 watt CB for my truck, it’s got this button on the mike, when you push it a purdy little lite comes on says “on the air” and everybody can hear ya. But when you let lose of it, a bunch of crappy truck drivers start talkin’. So I got me some duck tape and I just tape that button down, now that purdy little lite stays on all the time, and I just sings my heart out going down the hyway. I know they all like it ‘cause they wave when they pass me by. Some of them use a finger, some no finger at all, but they all wave.

You know this things got 18 tires. I can blow out 15 before I godda stop. I can scatter rubber and alligators over seven counties, (seven states if I’m up north). A trooper pulled me over and said, “You know you’ve blow’d out all your trailer tires and you’ve been plowin’ up pavement and leavin’ ruts for ten miles!! The road behind you is a mess!!” I said. “That’s okay, the road in front of me is fine.” He wrote me a ticket.

I pulled onto a scale in West Virginny, and was told to pull to the side and come in. So I did, he said, “you’re 1200 pounds over gross, do you know how much you weigh?” I said, “Now look here! I may not be no prize, but I damn shore don’t weigh no 1200 pounds!” He wrote me a ticket. So trying to lighten things up a little I said, “Show is a purdy state you got here. Satellite Dish the state flower?” He wrote me another ticket.

I got stopped by a trooper down south, he got out and said, “Boy, don’t you know you’re in Atlanta!” I said rubbin’ my chin, “Atlanta? Atlanta? I’ve heard of Atlanta, now, now don’t tell me?? It’s a little town, let me think, in, in east Texas, in a??? No, wait, give me a minute. In a county?? I know, I know. In a county we call, mmm Georgia.” He wrote me a ticket.

I was sittin’ at a counter in a diner havin’ a bowl of chili, when a trooper came in and sat down next to me. Just about then I ripped a stinker, ‘thubleeeeeiup’ I looked at him and smile while fanning the air a bit and said, “Missed a gear, I guess”. The trooper was looking rather pale and fannin’ the air quite a bit, mumbling something about methane pollution in the 3rd degree, and wrote me a ticket.

So darlin’, if there is anywhere you want to go, or some thing you want to see, give me a call, chances are I got a ticket.

lov’ ya girl; later ©
George Henry Nichols