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Bob's World,
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Blue Flamers,
by Dr. Dona T. Mularkey
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The Tunnel at the End of the Light,
by Brian C. Petroziello
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Blue Flamers
by Dr. Dona T Mularkey
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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