Anyone with a lick a' sense knows that one-half of all the Dairy Queens
in the U-S of A are located right here in the Lone Star State. Besides being the only
restaurant in a lot of Texas towns, it's the social hub of the community too. On the
weekend nights young slicks drive through in their trucks (why do you think they're
called `pick-ups´?) wearin' their best ten-gallon hat and tryin' to impress the girls.
The girls are in the ladies room changin' into what momma and daddy wouldn't let
them out of the house in, pilin' on the eye shadow, and creatin' big hair. And them
that's already goin' steady drive through to make an appearance before headin' off to
some quiet, private spot where they can let down the tailgate and look at the stars,
so to speak.

Now I wouldn't be tellin' you all a’ this except, if it weren't for the Dairy
Queen and some young slicks that didn't get lucky one Saturday night, you and me
would be dog meat for some little green men from Mars, or where ever these'ns
come from now days. But I'm gettin' ahead of myself. Let's go back to last
Saturday night.

I'm Stinky Harrison and I own a little piece a’ land out by Coffee Creek.
Now I know some young folk like to come out there and let off a little steam now 'n
then 'cause I seen the empties they left by the creek. Naturally I picked them up and
the pizza pie boxes too, but last week they got a little too carried away and I could
see some young buck rammed a truck into a big ol' tree. Now that tree was okay
but I sure would feel bad if some young'n got hurt on my property, so I decided to
hide out and throw a little scare into 'em come Saturday night.

Now Saturday is All-You-Can-Eat-Bean Night at the D-Q, and you
gotta wait in line a bit if you don’t git there by 6. I’m always there by 5:30 myself,
and for $3.99 I can put away a pretty decent amount a' pintos, cornbread, jalapeños,
onions, cheese, cole slaw, and hot links. A' course, when it comes to eatin' at the
D-Q on bean night, no one who really knows what they’re doin' plans on any close-
up socializin' afterwards with what all that stuff turns to in your average human
stomach and such. The best thing is to take a few cool ones and sit out on your
tailgate in the co-op parkin' lot and swap lies.

Well about 10 P-M I started up the Chevy and moseyed on out to
Coffee Creek where the cattle crossin' is. I parked behind a big rock and sat on the
tailgate waitin'. Now I musta had a few more cervezas than I thought because I
heard a strange kinda whirlin' sound, like an electric hum somewhere around, but
then I just figured it was them cicadas in the cottonwoods by the creek. I thought I
saw some flashin' lights too, but then I didn't, so I guessed it was either a passin'
truck or some heat lightnin.’ It does get pretty dark around here and you sure can
do some real fine stargazin', if you've a mind to.

Anyway, round about 11 a couple a' trucks pull in by the creek. I seen
some boys get out makin' a lot of racket and tossin' around some beers. It was real
easy to see 'cause folks here always leave their truck lights on when we meet like
that out in the country, so I could see them real plain like. I got a little closer so's I
could hear what they was sayin'. Evidently things hadn't changed much since I was
in school. This crew had been to bean night at the D-Q and a' course nature was
startin' to take its course.

Now I remember when I was still wet behind the ears, like them, and I
first heard about blue flamers. We called it ass gassin' then and I was sure some
impressed by the first blue flamer I actually saw. The boys was startin' to bet
betweenst themselves 'bout who could pass enough gas on command that, when
passed by a lit match, it would actually produce a flamer. A couple a' boys had
their jeans down around their boot tops and was leanin' over. I could make out
matches bein' struck. Then one kid got a singed butt and hollered out and started
hoppin' around like he was in a potato sack race on the Fourth a' July and his
buddies were hootin' and a hollerin' and darin' him to try it agin.

This had been goin' on about ten minutes when I just couldn't help
myself. I guess I'd never really growed up so I decide what these boys needed was
some adult guidance in this manly art. I stood up and shuffled my boots some in
the gravel to get their attention.

"Who's there," they yelled while runnin' towards their respective pick-
ups, but when they seen I was alone, they got brave agin. "Mr. Harrison, we're just
having a little fun out here. We didn't know we was bothering anyone," they said in
that best I'm-really-a-good-kid voice kids use on grownups when they think they're
in some trouble.

"Well, I just wouldn't like to see anythin' get outta hand here." I looked
over at the boys who had their pants at their ankles still. "You know, young
fellows, we used to try them blue flamers ourselves. Any of you ever really seen
one yet?" I was pretty sure they hadn't. One of my hidden talents, at least hidden
from the women folk, was that I was the reignin', never-been-beat, county ass
gassin' champeen. I could shoot a six footer on any given day of the week, and
today had been bean day at the D-Q! I'd been containin' myself since the boys had
showed up, so I knowed I could put on a pretty good show for them.

"Well?" I repeated. They all looked around grinnin' like this old fart is
really full of it, but they said, "Uh, no sir, we never have."

I looked over to the kid with the matches. "Boy, come over here. Now
I want you to stay about two feet behind me. When I say 'Now', you light up.
OK?" He shook his head yes, but I could see that smirk on his face that said I'm
gonna get closer and if this old man can pass gas at all, I'll singe his butt for him.

I unbuckled my jeans and dropped 'em just enough to expose my
workin' end. I collected my thoughts, shifted my weight so I was pointin' more at
Mr. Smarty-Pants with the matches, and yelled "Now!" Well sir, he lit that match, I
gave it one reaaally good squeeze, and a blue flamer shot out a good seven or eight
feet! Thank you, D-Q, I prayed silently.

Well the boys all jumped back hollerin' and then they got all quiet.
Compared to their puny efforts this was W. W. Two. I casually looked around and
asked if everyone was okay and did they all get a close enough look, cause if they
didn't...? They all backed up and said "Yes sir, I did," probably 'cause Mr. Smarty-
Pants was still brushin' out the singe marks and sparks from his Levis. ®

I casually pulled up my drawers and was about to go into my lecture
about the dangers that four-foot-in-diameter trees pose to sixteen year old drivers in
pick-up trucks under the influence a' alcohol when all hell broke loose on the other
side of the creek. I never got that good a’ look but there was some fellers over
there that shore didn't look like anythin' I'd ever seen exceptin' on those U-F-O T-V
shows. They was a runnin' around and hollerin' like it was Judgment Day and
pointin' over at us, especially at me! Then they all ran behind a big rock and the
next thing we knowed we heard this electric hummin' and saw some rows of
flashin' lights lift clean off a' the ground and go straight up until we couldn't see
them no more.

"Well, I declare," I said, but by then all them brave boys had all piled
into their trucks and de-parted. I collected my hat and a still-cold beer them boys
had left behind and moved over to my own truck. I had some pretty wild dreams
that night, but after a couple a days I started to think about what had happened. If I
was a Martian from space and thinkin' a’ conquerin' another planet, I'd sure be
plenty scared if those folks I was plannin' on conquerin' could shoot fire outta their
asses on command too.

I never told anyone else about that night, but I could tell I had some new
found respect amongst the young folk in town and they quit comin' out to my place
at night. I also noticed that attendance at bean night picked up, particularly with the
young slicks who got shot down by the girls. I never saw those lights agin when I'd
park out in the dark and watch for shootin' stars though. I guess the good Lord
works in mysterious ways, so God bless Dairy Queen and all that she stands for, I
say.

The End


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