Xena -- Warrior Writer

I have a Halloween costume for a sorceress that I named Xena -- long before the warrior princess.

She is a seer and a wise woman, a medicine woman, wearing a scrying glass, and carrying a crystal ball and an enchanted staff. She wears her hair in a braid coronet around her head. She has become a whole character, not just a costume. I'm a writer. It's what I do.

There are armies of characters billeted in my head. There are whole worlds, some already discovered and many more yet to be discovered. Fortunately, I do not have costumes for all of them.

There is one world in which I have been spending a great deal of time. I am editing one book that takes place there and planning a second book. The place is the fictional Succotash County, Arkansas, a magical little corner of the world in my head. It is a place were the funny, strange, weird, and bizarre are in play at all times.

I don't know if I was born with all of these people in my head or if I somehow collected them along the way. I suspect the latter. Somehow they appear just when I need them. Kind of like old friends I haven't seen for awhile. I don't spend a lot of time agonizing over character development.For me they come fully developed and usually charged with plenty of attitude.

A writer friend on Facebook recently asked the question of our writing community of how we create characters. There were many different responses, from writing a page on each character to filling out worksheets. I seem to take a more intuitive approach. My response was that I "get to know them as I write." They know who they are and, like making friends,  I find out as I go along.

They seem to come in and exit on cue like actors on a stage. I do not choose how they look, they just appear in my mind. Otherwise how can I explain that my male main character looks like television chef Alton Brown? It I had been thinking it instead of feeling it he would have been likely to look more like George Clooney. To be honest, the Alton Brown look is far more real. I would like to say it was a stroke of genius, but it was more like just a stroke.

The only characters in the book based on real people are the main character (loosely based on myself), the MCs mother (loosely based on my mother), and the cat (based not-so-loosely on my cat). Everyone else is a complete denizen of my mind.

There are some associations to the outside world. Somehow Sheriff Harlan Tuttle is the cousin of a redneck, gravy-loving character that Jay Leno used to do on the Tonight Show. Who knew? These things happen.

Foxworth Memorial Park is a tribute to one of my muses, comedian Jeff Foxworthy. I also named a business for comedian Bill Engvall for the same reason. Just to be clear here, the book IS humor.

The minister's daughter is named Georgia Brown Fanning because she was born at a Harlem Globetrotter's game in Atlanta.

But I digress.

The reality of all of this is that in someways all of these people are me. Much like actors in different roles, writers take on different personas  The trick is that we do it far more often as we spend a few hours writing. Like an actor performing in a one-man show, we can cycle quickly though the characters in a scene. We may take a pause occasionally to regroup our thoughts, then we keep going.

We constantly walk around with this cast of characters in our heads. Sometimes they stop talking to us and we experience writer's block. Other times they all start talking at once and we take up drinking (just kidding).

Sometimes I think of it as having an alternate universe inside my head, or perhaps just a different dimension of this one. We are never alone. (Cue eerie music here.)

R -- Reality Review

One of the first pieces of advice every writer receives is to "write what you know." This can be extremely frustrating advice as you sit an ponder what it is you actually know and how you turn that into writing that someone would actually want to read.

The first thing to understand is to not to take this advice too literally. J.K. Rowling was not actually a part of a magical wizarding world. Stephenie Meyer is not a vampire. Suzanne Collins did not survive The Hunger Games. Tolkien did not live in Middle Earth. These authors still wrote what they knew.

They took what they understood about human nature and human behavior and created realistic characters and placed them into situations that could plausibly happen in the worlds they created. Collins took what she understood about the need of some sections of human society to subjugate others to demonstrate their inflated sense of importance thus creating a dystopian society in which something like The Hunger Games could flourish. Basing the games on an extreme version of today's reality television shows added a strong sense of reality to the tale. She then placed characters that most people can identify with into the situation.

Realistic characters come from creating people like us, complex combinations of heroism and flaws, happiness and sadness, and hot mess a good share of the time. We identify with these characters because they aren't perfect. Harry Potter would not have been the sympathetic character he was if he had not lost his parents as a baby and been raised in a Muggle household where he was treated unfairly. Frodo Baggins would not have been a sympathetic character if he hadn't been the reluctant hero facing his fears at every turn. These characteristics exist in all of us, both hero and villain.

Last year my mother read the first draft of my first novel before she passed away. She hugged the draft the her chest as she told me how much she loved the book, especially how realistic the characters were.

To put this in perspective, the book is about a small community in Arkansas where strange and often paranormal things happen almost daily. The characters take all of these things in their stride as though these things were completely normal. The characters are not perfect, some are deeply flawed.

I have never been to Arkansas, but at the time I started the book I was on the phone everyday for my day job talking with people in Arkansas. So I got to know the people. I love every one of my characters. They are funny but I do not make fun of them. The funny arises from being human in human situations.

I based the main character loosely on myself, so that I knew. I based my main character's mother on my mother. The other characters were people that took up residence in my head and won't leave. Most of them are rednecks of whom Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy would be proud.

My mother sure was. She was especially proud of how real it is, even though one of the characters gets abducted by aliens and meets Elvis long after he died.

M -- My Mother

As with most people, my mother was a huge part of my life. She passed away last summer from a hemorrhagic stroke. She was still living alone at the age of 84 and it was just lucky that I found her that morning, collapsed on the bathroom floor. She was still alive but blood was coming from her mouth and I could hear the death rattle. I immediately called 911 and the ambulance was there very quickly. Because of her small apartment they had to load her onto a sheet and carry her out.

By the time I caught up with her at the hospital she was on life support. After a quick chat with the ER doctor I had them remove the life support. Mum and I had had the end-of-life talk and so I knew her wishes. The hospital chaplain called our minister. The minister arrived shortly after Mum passed. He was clearly shaken by her loss. We had a short prayer over her, I told the hospital who would be handling her remains, and a friend took me to lunch to make sure I would eat.

The next few weeks were a blur as I had to pack up and get moved out of her apartment, fill out all sorts of paperwork, and plan the memorial service. The day after the memorial service two friends and I took her ashes into the mountains and set her free in her favorite mountain valley when it was at the peak of the aspen trees autumn gold.

Mum and I had had a sometimes tumultuous relationship, but we ultimately became very close as both mother and daughter and as friends.

The last photo of Mum as I was explaining why my camera did not need film.

She, too, had dreamed of being a writer. She never pushed these dreams on me -- for the most part. I had made my own choice to become a writer without knowing that she had wanted to write. I eventually discovered a stash of books that she had kept from a writing correspondence course she had once taken. While she supported my desire to write, my father did his best to tear it down. Small wonder they ended up divorced.

Over the years Mum became my biggest fan. At one point she absolutely insisted that I enter a poetry contest. I won first place. That was the beginning of my winning many, many poetry awards and pushing myself to learn how to write more poetry forms, from Senyru to Tanka, and Sonnets to Villanelles. Mum also wrote poetry and won numerous awards as well.

Last year, just a few months before she passed, I gave her a copy of the first draft of my first novel. She was so excited by the volume and loved it. I still have to live up to Mum's final request of me -- to make sure the book gets published.

I'm working on it, Mummy! I promised you and I will keep that promise.

There is one other book I will be working on for her. She passed away in the midst of writing a book about growing up during the Great Depression. I want to take what she has written and complete it for her as a thank you for passing the torch of the writing dream to me.

Local Man Worried by Drought

(c)2011 by Laurie Kay Olson

Well, I can tell you, I ain’t the only one! This is a crisis of epic proportions! I kin tell you, the town council really screwed up when they didn’t even consider puttin’ in the pipeline That was proposed. And here we are, completely dry!

Okay, okay, okay. Maybe I’m over-reactin’ a bit, an’ maybe a beer pipeline IS a little impractical. But one lousy truckers’ strike an’ we’re sittin’ high an’ dry. I was thinkin’ o’ sendin’ Bubba on a run to St. Louis in the truck, but I wasn’t entirely sure that it would all make it back here.

Elmo’s Bar an’ Grill is all but abandoned these days an’ the weekly poker game over to the Legion Hall has been called off. I even heard the Emory has been spotted wand’rin’ around town sober!

Now ol’ Doug Miller does have some bottles o’ home brew stored up, but not near enough to lubricate all o’ the beer drinkers in town. An’ I understand that there is still a fair supply of the hard stuff on hand.

But BEER!

How could we have been so blind as to not have been prepared! I found out a few nights ago that Erma Rose had been keepin’ back a six o’ the cheap stuff for the garden. But that’s gone now. How am I supposed to eat pretzels now? Or peanuts. There’s a reason they call ‘em Beer Nuts!

Erma Rose says it won’t hurt me none to be on the wagon for awhile, but I ain’t so sure. I can’t watch football. I can’t watch basketball. I can’t pretend to watch golf. I tell ya, the end of the world has come. It’s a big ol’ right wing conspiracy. First they take away your beer an’ then they think that they can do anything they want with you. But I’ll show them. I’ll show them. I’ll switch from beer to that British lager stuff.

What do you mean, that’s what they call beer in England? It can’t be. I heard that it’s something they drink warm. Warm beer? That’s insane!

That tears it. I’m sendin’ Bubba north. He’s a good boy. He’ll save us. So what if a six or two disappear along the way? It’ll leave the rest for us. Yes, I’ll be able to sleep again now. An’ maybe my hands’ll stop shakin’ too.

Local Woman Faces Drunk Driving Charges

 (c) 2007 by Laurie Kay Olson

Well, just about everyone ‘round these parts

Knows how our ol’ cow Bessie can be.

She’s had the wanderlust ever since she was a calf.

An’ her momma took her off to see the Wilfey’s tree farm

That one Christmas years an’ years ago.

Eny-who, she went missing on one o’ her weekly jaunts

AN’ I followed her trail out back o’ the hay barn,

‘Round the back forty, and acrost Idjit Creek.

It was an easy to trail her, mind you,

Since her bowels were loosened up by

The free sample of Ex-Lax she are when she

Stopped by the drugstore earlier this week.

She had gone through the woods down where all

The teenagers go to watch submarine races

Least ways that’s what Earl an’ me used it for way back

When we were young an’ sufferin’ in love an’ such.

Boy if that ol’ Ford pick-up truck could talk.

Eny-who, after I cared several kids outta a year’s growth

As I tried to sneak past their cars, but forgot meself

An’ gave Bessie an extra loud holler to come home.

I ended up comin’ out behind ol’ Doug Miller’s place

In the clearin’ where he has his still goin’ night an’ day.

It was there that I saw ol’ Bessie standin’ with her back to me,

Swayin’ back an’ forth, an’ I’d swear she was hummin’ to herself.

But maybe that was just the sound of the still.

It smelled like ol’ Doug was makin’ up a big batch

O’ his special butterscotch scotch.

That’s the stuff that’ll get you drunk an’ give you

A sugar high all at the same time, not to mention the hangover from both.

Ol’ Bessie turned ‘round an’ give out a big ol’ snort right in my face.

The fumes coulda peeled pain, if there’d been any paint to peel.

She’d been chewin’ on the leftover fermented grain

An’ was drunker ‘n’ a skunk eatin’ stink berries in the fall.

I eased a halter over her head as she tried to kiss me.

Least ways she was a happy drunk.

With a large measure o’ pullin’ , pleadin’ an’ cajolin’

I managed to git her out onto County Road 8 ¼

With her headed toward home swingin’ and a swayin’

Then ol’ Harlan Tucker in his patrol car come by at the wrong time

An’ nearly hit head on when he zigged an’ ol’ Bessie zagged.

He musta already been in a het up mood, ‘cause he arrested me

Right on the spot for drunk drivin’ an’ took me in.

He aint’ get a leg to stand on though.

Once we talked to the judge he pointed out that the law

Specifically states the drivin’ of a vehicle, not farm animals, while impaired.

The judge looked at Sheriff Tuttle over his glasses an’ suggest

That he try arrestin’ the cow for public intoxication an’ see how that went.

That is if he didn’t mind bein’ a bigger fool than he’d already made o’ himself.

Local Woman Run Over By Reindeer

(c) 2001 by Laurie Kay Olson

Well, it all started back in November jist afore Thanksgivin’

Ol’ Mabel Shively, the mayor’s wife, started naggin’ on me

To be one o’ Santa’s elves in the ChristmasParade this year.

I know how she can git if she don’t get her way.

I figured I might as well give in up front an’ enjoy the festivities

Rather than havin’ her givin’ me grief at ev’ry turn this Christmas.

At the veru first meetin’ my boy Bubbais complainin’ about elves

An’how they ain’t cool, so he suggested that we all wear sunglasses

Since the stockin’ caps and pointy shooes thing had been done to death.

Mabel didn’t like that idea one bit, so naturally  all the elves

Just up an’ took right to it, even Santa said he’d do it.

Seein’ as he was head elf an all up to the North Pole.

Bubba managed to smooth it all over with Mabel by explainin’

That since we didn’t have no snow Santa an’ the gang

Would need some protection from that good ol’ Arkansas sunshine.

So the Saturday afore Christmas  we loaded Santa into an ol’ buggy

That was bein’ drawn by a horse that Mabel’d made a set of antlers for.

I don’t think that poor ol’ nag liked them things wavin’ around

I don’t think he liked havin’ a red rubber ball tied to his snout neither.

As if anyone would mistake him for Rudolph by any stretch.

Eny-who, all the kids in the county lined up from the drugstore

All the way down to the bandshell at Foxworth Memorial Park

Waiting for Santa to make the four block trip to see ‘em.

Personally, I think Santa would’ve been a heap more convincin’

If he hadn’t insisted on wearin’ his badge on his red velour suit.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he had his gun strapped on underneath too.

Well, we started off with the Pea Pod Junction Junior/Senior High band

Leadin’ the way playin’ Santa Claus is Comin’  to Town so well

That you could almost make out what they was actually playin’

All us elves walked along side Santa an’ his makeshift reindeer,

Handin’ out candy on all sides an’ yellin’ Merry Christmas to one an’ all

While ol’ Rudolph was gittin’ all het up about that ball on his snout

He started to shake them foam rubber antlers somethin’ fierce

The parade route was short, but it was two blocks too long for that ol’ nag.

All of a sudden he reared up an’ tried to get away from those antlers

I barely turned around in time to see that strange creature conin’ at me.

With Harlan, I mean Santa, holdin’ on for dear life, white beard in his eyes.

Next thing I knowed I was spread-eagle on the pavement.

When first the horse an’ then the buggy went right over me.

I woulda been just fine with a couple o’ cracked ribs

An’ a big ol’ horse-shoe shaped bruise on my backside

But that was when Santa fell outta the buggy right onto me

An’ busted my left arm in a couple o’ places

It may sound kinda bad, but at least this Christmas

I won’t have to spend the whole day bastin’ the turkey

An’ worryin’ about whether my Jello mold has set or not.

No siree, Earl’s promised to take care o’ dinner this year.

Though my guess is he’ll just go shoppin’ down to the Piggly-Wiggly

An’ get turkey Tee-Vee dinners to throw in the oven at half-time.

If I made the dinner that way he’d probably complain clean through to Easter.

I’m thinkin’ Mother’s Day.

Local Man Comes Down With Flu (sic)

 (c) 2005 by Laurie Kay Olson

(Earl Parker to spend New Year’s in Dog House)

Well, it all started when my boy Bubba come home Christmas Eve

All worried ‘cause some o’ the bigger kids’ tol’ him that Santa

Had died in a water skiin’ accident while on vacation down in Baja

So there wasn’t goin’ to be no presents comin’ this year.

He didn’t know how he was goin’ to get his Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots

Since he’d had to pay for the broken window down to the mortuary

After him an’ little Billy Watson got over excited on Halloween

An’ thought there was a zombie comin’ after them while they was Trick or Treatin’

Next door at the Mason’s house ‘cause they give the best candy in town.

I think that is was partly their fault since ol’ Orrin Mason dressed up as a scarecrow

An’ waited on the front porch like he was a real scarecrow just flopped on an ol’ chair.

He’d come to life at the last second and scare the kids halfway to the firehouse

Afore his wife, Dottie, would call them back an’ give ‘em extra candy to calm ‘em down.

I’m sure Dottie reamed him but good once the kids were outta earshot.

Then again, even Orrin couldn’t’a figured that one little ol’ candy bar

Would make it all the way to the second floor window,

Let alone actually break the glass.

It nearly scared ol’ Kenny Frewer, the mortician’s assistant, half to death.

All he’d been doin’ was puttin’ on his coat while lookin’ out the window.

Although his choice of Halloween costume with the ax in his skull

Probably wasn’t the best one right then an’ there.

He did kinda look like a zombie just risen up and walkin’ through the mortuary.

But I die-gress. Bubba come home that afternoon a couple o’ weeks ago

Walkin’ like he had the weight o’ the whole world on his shoulders

An’ lookin’ like it was all gonna end tomorra anyway.

Nothin’ me or Erma Rose could say would convince him that Santa was still a-comin’ –

Not even when we explained that Rudolph had rescued him at the last minute

An’ given him a good dose of that mouth to mouth resurrection,

An’ the worst Santa had suffered after all that was a bad sunburn.

So there I was, tryin’ to figure out how to make Christmas okay for Bubba.

An’ not comin’ up with much of anythin’ on my own brain power.

So I went over to ol’ Doug Miller’s place to see if he had any bright ideas

Since somethin’ similar had happened to his girl, Willie Ann, a few years back.

His wife, Lurleen, served us some o’ her spicey eggnog while we talked it over.

I don’t know how I forget from one Christmas to the next how she makes it –

You know, not enough egg and too much nog, if you get my meanin’.

Afore I realized what was happenin’ Doug an’ me were standin’ on the roof o’ my place

Singin’ Christmas carols like there wasn’t no tomorrow an’ getting’ half the words wrong.

But by that time we was way past carin’ an focused on the task at hand.

Gettin’ me down the chimney in a Santa suit we had borrowed from Doc Corwin

Once he was done givin’ out presents to the orphans down to the Legion Hall.

Doug tied a rope ‘round my middle to lower me down slow an’ off I went.

It was a tighter fit than we had figured, but I was still goin’ down.

Next thing I knowed everything was goin’ down an’ there I was in the livin’ room

With all the bricks and soot all over the place an’ Erma Rose givin’ me “the look.”

I was just glad that she was too distracted by Bubba’s problem

To make up a big, festive fire for Christmas Eve

Or I’d’a come off a might burnt around the edges.

Bubba an’ Loretta Sue were so surprised that they spilt their hot cocoa all over everything.

I know I’m gonna be apologizin’ for this one right on into the next century

Providin’ Erma Rose lets me live that long.

As for Bubba, he’s decided to go one believin’ in Santa Claus forever.

He says that not believin’ is too hard on his nerves.

I say it’s too hard on my backside an’ my liver.

Local Woman Receives Visit from King

  (c) 2005 by Laurie Kay Olson

(From the Succotash County Times, August 23, 1987)

Well, I’d been cannin’ my bread an’ butter pickles all mornin’

An’ it was getting’ so hot in the kitchen I was sweatin’ like

An ice cream freezer at the Independence Day picnic an’ crawdad cook-off.

So I took me a break an’ went out on the front porch to catch a cool breeze

An’ put up my tired feet, an’ drink a glass or two o’ lemonade.

I’d no more ‘n’ got to feelin’ like my ol’ self again when this man walks up.

He had black hair an’ sunglasses on so’s I couldn’t see what he looked like

But he said the lemonade looked mighty refreshin’ an’ could he have a glass.

I said sure thing an’ he sat down on the chair acrost from me.

I introduced myself as I was pourin’ him a tall glass an’ refillin’ mine.

When he sipped at his glass he told me that his name was Elvis Aaron Presley.

Well, I thought my jaw was gonna drop clean through to China.

Just to prove it he took off his glasses an’ laid ‘em on the table.

Sure enough, I’d know those baby blue eyes anywheres.

An’ my heart gave that funny little kerflop just like it used to

Back when he was alive an’ kickin’ an’ singin’ up a storm.

I says to him “Elivis, hon’, you’re supposed to be dead an’ gone!

What’re you doin’ walkin’ ‘round like this an’ scarin’ folks half to death?”

Then he says that he surely was well dead an’ buried at Graceland,

But he had a whole heap o’ unfinished business before he can move on.

So I ask him what’s keepin’ him here instead o’ with the Good Lord.

An’ he tells me he needed to let Priscilla know that he really did love her,

An’ that Lisa Marie was the pride o’ his whole life,

An’ he wanted her to know how sorry he was about her an’ Michael Jackson

An’ their break-up. not ‘cause he was black or nothin’

But ‘cause show business, with all that attention an’ money.

Makes it extra hard to make a marriage work out.

He also said that for awhile he’d been on a campaign

To get people to stop singin’ “Happy Birthday” like they was a choir o’ mice

Or a pond o’ bull frogs rather than just plain folks.

But that didn’t work out too well since it seemed that the song

Was always started out by the most tone-deaf person there.

I can tell you, Elvis Presley is just one o’ the finest boys ever!

We talked for an hour an’ more, an’ he thanked me for the lemonade

I fixed him up a peanut butter an’ banana sandwich

An’ packed him another one for the road

‘Cause he said he was meetin’ Jack Kennedy an’ the Big Bopper

At a convenience store in Jonesboro that evenin’.

I waved good-bye an’ wisht him well as he took off

He turned back an’ told me he’d by me a big purple Cadillac

Next time he found himself out an’ around these parts.

Wasn’t that just like him all over? So generous an’ all?

I wasn’t until he’d been gone a good twenty minutes or so

That I hadn’t gotten a autograph or a photo or anythin’.

But he had sung me a couple choruses o’ Hound Dog an’ Viva Las Vegas

It’s somethin’ I’ll remember and cherish clean into the next world.

Local Woman Buries Husband

(c) 2002 by Laurie Kay Olson

You wouldn’t believe all the people that come by.

Word spread faster ‘n’ a grease fire over to the diner

On all-you-can-eat-for-a-dollar-ninety-five burger an’ fries night.

They come from all over the county to see Earl –

Just as though he’d been someone famous, or leastwise important.

An’ he certainly was a sight to see, I can tell you.

But here I am getting’ ahead o’ myself.

Let me start from the beginnin’ – it all started when we decided

That we really needed to give the garden back o’ the hay barn an’ the lawn up front

 A good ol’ fashioned fertilizin’ but there wasn’t no money.

Our two li’l ol’ cows Bessie an’ Bertha couldn’t do it all themselves.

An’ my compost heap wasn’t producin’ half what I was expectin’

Since the raccoons keep gittin’ into it an’ stealin’ anythin’ they think might be tasty.

Dang fool creatures keep leavin’ their leftovers on the roof

Till Earl finally accused me of tryin’ to feed them like they was pets.

I pointed out to him that I had enough work tryin’ to keep him,

Two kids, two cows an’ a dozen chickens fed without startin’ in on the wildlife.

An’ if I was gonna, I probably be kinder to the critter than the put out

A leftover frozen blueberry toaster waffle that Bubba spit on to make Loretta Sue mad.

Eny-who, it was about this same time that our boy Bubba was hangin’ around

The eye-tinerant circus that was set up over to the county fairgrounds.

He got his self a part-time job helpin’ with the elephants.

Well, within a couple o’ days him an’ his daddy cooked up this plan.

So they go to the circus boss an’ offer to haul away

A big pile o’ elephant poop just for the takin’ – no charge.

That ol’ circus boss agreed quick as a lick from a hound dog.

Said he couldn’t get rid o’ the stuff fast enough,

So Earl an’ Bubba borrowed an ol’ dump truck from Ed Early down to the machine shop.

It took ‘em all mornin’ to fill up the truck, even with the help o’ some o’ the circus hands.

Apparently the elephants had gone off their diets when they ran across some kudzu

An’ the effect had been rather overwhelmin’ to say the very least most.

When they came home they smelt so dang bad I made them wash their hands

With the garden hose an’ eat their lunch sittin’ on the back stoop.

By the time they was done eatin’ an’ ready to go start spreadin’ it around

Some of Earl’s buddies from the Lodge had come by.

They wanted to see what ol’ Earl was up to with that truck o’ Ed’s/

I had got my ol’ clothes on so that I could get out an’ help with the work.

An’ I was checkin’ out what elephant stuff looked like

By climbin’ up the truck an’ lookin’ over the side.

All o’ a sudden-like my feet started to slip an’ I tried to catch myself.

One o’ my feet accidentally hit the do-hickey that dumps the truck.

I jumped off right quick so that I didn’t get dumped too.

That was when I saw Earl standin’ there in harms way.

So I started shoutin’ for him to move outta the way

All whilst I was tryin’ to move the do-hickey back the t’other way.

But naturally the dang thing was stuck harder than a butt from a billy goat.

An’ o’ course Earl wasn’t listenin’ to me, as usual.

So by the time he realized what was happenin, it was too late.

Next thing we all knowed, Earl was totally buried in crap.

We all rushed over to start diggin’ him outta there.

Word spread an’ soon there was a whole crowd helpin’ an’ watchin’

An’ some o’ the fellas were makin’ jokes about how Earl didn’t know crap

An’ a bunch o’ other jokes I know you can’t print.

Earl was madder ‘n’ a wet hen in the pourin’ rain by the time we dug him out.

He didn’t calm down until he’d had a long, hot shower, changed clothes,

An’ gargled half a bottle o’ Listerine to get the taste outta his mouth.

I’m gonna have to buy a whole case o’ Oxydol just to get our clothes clean again.

Earl still wants to get come dirty straw that Bubba saved up from the camels’ beddin’

This time Earl says he’s gonna play it safe an’ just load it up in a couple o’ Hefty bags

An’ trust that I won’t dump them over his head too.

O’ course I hadn’t even thought o’ anythin’ like that until he said it.

Lucky for him that I still love him after all these years.

Local Woman Abducted

© 1998 by Laurie Kay Olson

I first saw it up yonder, in the back pasture it was,

Where ol’ Bessie likes to go to chew her cud an’ think.

I’d gone up to fetch her back to the cow barn,

An’ all of a sudden there was these bright lights.

They come up over ol’ Doug Miller’s place down the road,

But way back towards the creek, you know, where he keeps his still.

You could tell he’d been up to making a batch o’ his usual shine

‘Cause all the trees was leanin’ away from the clearing

Like they was tryin’ to catch a breath o’ fresh air.

Eny-who, I didn’t know what they hell them lights were.

At first I thought maybe some ATeeF agents with flashlights,

Or maybe ol’ Doug had gone an’ blowed up the still again.

But it kept a-movin’ across the sky, all slow an’ silent an’ all –

Like ol’ Mabel Shively after she’s been to the all-you-can-eat buf-fett

Over to the new shoppin’ mall. You know. The one next to the Piggly-Wiggly.

Well. I plum forgot all about Bessie an’ just stared I’m tellin’ you.

That thing was bigger ‘n’ life itself an’ twice as shiny.

Then it shot this big ol’ light out all over me –

Just like I was some Hollywood movie star sashaying my backside up a red carpet.

Then that light somehow nipped my right up inside that big ol’ You-Fo

Just as slick as a whistle at a dog callin’ contest.

Next thing I knowed I’m lyin’ flat out on this table

That was colder than Neptune’s nether bits

An’ these li’l fellas with big ol’ eyes just a pokin’ an’ a prodin’ me

Like I was the prize pig over to the county fair an’ they was the judges.

They was talkin’ some language that sounded more furrin’

Than them dang’fool Eye-raki’s on the tv news last night.

Don’t think I didn’t just up an’ give them a piece o’ my mind –

Takin’ me so sudden an’ all. It was like to give a body a heart attack.

It must’ve worked ‘cause all of a sudden I was back in the pasture

Lyin’ there lookin’ up at the sky like I didn’t have a thing to do in this world

With ol’ Bessie starin’ down at me an’ chewin’ on her cud.

It was the strangest thing that ever happened ‘round these parts.

‘Lessen you count the time that Camilla Marie Boyd  over to Taylor Holler

Found a tater in her garden in the shape o’ Mr. Conway Twitty.

After what I’ve been through I can tell you one thing I’ve learned –

You just never know what might be hidin’ in the back pasture these days.