Laugh

Laugh
Click any letter for a look at my prize-winning essay from the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. You don't even have to buy a vowel.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Pole Position

I understand that a Las Vegas strip club hauled around a load of strippers dancing on a pole in the back of a pick-up truck as an advertisement for their business. I’m from the Southern United States where the major crop is orange construction cones and the state speed limit is “SLOW--MEN WORKING.” It’s hard for me to imagine anything but an ice cream truck, the roto-rooter man, or a wheat farmer on a combine harvester making a profit at these speeds.

I don’t know exactly what these folks were advertising, but the only business with a pole around here is Charlie’s Barber Shop and mostly it’s the pole that goes round and round and not the employees, unless Shirlene is trying to even up Tiny Jones’s crew cut again. Carting around a bunch of girls in the back of truck is something we do for the Christmas parade and generally they keep their uniforms on and shake their pom poms.

Other than that usually it’s a hound dog or an Almost Labrador in the back of the truck and they’re mostly advertising that you’d be better off not trying to take anything from the truck. Some people think the deer rifle in the back window is the most dangerous automotive accessory, but I know a Chihuahua that will go Cujo on anybody that gets near enough to touch his stuffed lambie toy.

I’ve never been to Las Vegas and I don’t think I want to go. If there are as many one-armed bandits there as I’ve heard, they’re liable to get into it with all those pick-up girls and it would be impossible to have any luck at the slots. I'll stay down here and risk lambing time with Cujo.

1 comment:

Nanny Goats In Panties said...

Awwww, Las Vegas isn't so bad... if you wear ear plugs.... and blindfolds... and duct tape over your mouth.