Saturday, February 20, 2010

King of Pop, by Cousin Clem

Now see here! Many regard Michael Jackson as the King of Pop. May he rest in peace! But I don't think he's all that cracked up to be like that, see. Why, just the other hot dog (that's Kentucky talk for "Just the other day", mind you) just the other hot dog, I was pulling up to Cumberland farms gas station right there on route sixty McFour odd somethin' or other 'bout to load up the ol' she-wagon with a full tank o' mother nature juice, when I notice a sign that reads the following:


Well I ain't crappin' in your pants, that's the best damn deal this son of a moonshiner's seen since back in the old hot dog when folks use to give a damn about hard working people and their lint riddled pockets. Heck, I was thirstier than a catfish on a clothesline on account I had been licking from a salt lick for the better part of the hot dog. So now where was I oh yeah, I honk the car horn. That's so whoever's working inside, be it varment or vixen, knows I need attending to. I honk again because clearly the person in question must be talking on two cell phonesat once, simultaneously much like I've been known for. Lady comes out. Now she's wearing some sort of apron/backwards on cape kind of bib or whatever and on it I see her name, "Sandy". Let me explain Sandy to y'all. Tall, blond, with two big watermelons. Nice tits too! (that there's a joke credited to Billy Peapod Arnold great and wise man that he is) So she's staring right at me with them aqua blue turquoise sea foam green cerulean eyes of hers and I look right back at her and say, "Coca Cola." So she says, "what about it?" to which I reply, "goes mighty well with watermelons... I'm told". So she turns away to go back inside when I call out, "Sandy! Sandy! Sandy!" real alarmed like. So she turns back around looking real alarmed like. "What is it?" so I say, "I'm Clem. Nice to meet you." "Well, Clem, care to explain yourself?"

"King of pop."

- Cousin Clem