|3/8/2014 8:46:00 AM|
Bubba and Elvis save the day
"I got a person to person telephone call for a Mister Timmons from Gov. Mitch Daniels."
"Hey Bubba, how you doing?"
"As much as you write about Daniels, I knew you'd know that wasn't his voice!"
I started to explain to my friend Bubba Castiron that he has a pretty unique voice himself. Kind of redneck mixed in with dim-witted. I didn't. It wouldn't matter.
"So Bubba, it's been a while, what have you been up to?"
"Not much, just wanted to say that I was sorry to hear you got canned."
Once again I caught myself wanting to explain that when I wrote that I fired myself a couple of weeks ago it was just a way of introducing our new publisher Tina West. Once again, I thought, why waste the time?
"Thanks, Bubba. I appreciate it."
"Actually Timmons, I was reading where you were whining about how the big city newspapers are telling everyone your business is dying when it's not."
I had to admit that Bubba surprised me. He didn't seem to be the type to read much past the comics.
"I got to thinking that maybe you ought to talk to Elvis."
For those who don't know, Elvis is the bartender at the Crawl-On-Inn, a little hole in the wall bar out between Boxley, Omega, Elwood and Tipton. He's part of a colorful crowd that Bubba hangs with, Tater, Gumball, Big Country and part-time waitress, part-time truck driver Bambi. Hey, I said colorful.
"Why should I talk to Elvis, Bubba? What does he know about the newspaper business?"
"Nothing, although how hard can a business be that involves readin' and writin'? I mean most of us learned that stuff in third grade and moved on."
"Seriously Timmons, Elvis is great about things like this and really can help. Shucks, he saved me $15,000 once."
I hated this. Once again Bubba had reached out and grabbed me around the collar and before I knew it I was sucked head first into his story. Sigh. Every fiber of my being wanted to say congrats and hang up. Instead . . .
"How'd he save you $15 grand, Bubba?"
"Well, ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper I always had this terrible feeling that some big awful monster was hidin' under my bed. My mama and my papa told me I'd outgrow it, but the thing is, I never did. This followed me into my manhood and when I was in my 30s I went to see this shrink over in Carmel about it."
I was hooked. Double sigh.
"So this shrink says to me that he can cure this phonyia-"
"Never mind, go on."
"The shrink tells me that I need to come see him three times a week for one year. I ask him how much it's going to cost me and he says a hundred dollars a visit. Well heck, Timmons, that's $300 a week and that's about $15 grand. I didn't have no insurance that would cover it so that evening I was telling the boys about it. And danged if Elvis didn't cure my entire problem. Saved me $15 grand."
I hated to, but I had to know. "Bubba, what in the world did Elvis say that cured a problem you had since childhood."
"Well, he looked me straight in the eye and said, 'cut the legs off the bed.' Ain't nobody or nuthin' under there now."
Hmmm.I wonder if Elvis has any thoughts on Saturday mail delivery.
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