by Tumbleweed_Tex » Mon Jul 19, 2010 9:14 am
I SAW THE LIGHT
I've been...away. I've got a friend up on the highest ridge north of town. She's an older woman, she lives alone, and I ride up and check on her every couple of months.
After a really good home-cooked supper, and a good long set on her porch, I, being the part time gentleman, offered to sleep in her barn. She, being the full time lady, told me I certainly would NOT sleep in her barn. She put me on the sofa, got me an extra blanket to ward off the chill, tucked me in, and kissed my cheek goodnight.
Now...a few peculiars about one Antique Texas cowboy...
I simply cannot sleep in a pair of jeans, preferring, instead, to strip down to my long-handle underwear (which pair I happened to have on were stretched nearly twice their original size in the waist. (just hush…it's a guy thing).
Since Texas is hot during the day, and steamy at night, I tend to drink a lot of water. As a result, somewhere along about two or three in the morning, I wake up with a most powerful "urge".
And being born and raised "out-of-doors", when such an urge happens along, I much prefer to amble outside, under the stars, where I can just relax and let her fly, without worrying about trivial things like rememberin' to put the seat down. Besides, my aim is not so good any more.
Therefore, when I awoke on her sofa, in my long-handles, about 3 am, with one of those urges, I decided to leave the jeans where they lay, and ease on outside in just my skivvies, hat, and boots.
And so it was, under a dark moon, that I found myself in the side yard, doing my business, whistling softly under my breath, when Betsy, the old hound that sleeps endlessly under the porch, decided I was some alien creature come to drown the world. And as I was unsuccessfully trying to shush the baying, I heard the unmistakable click of twin hammers on a double barrel shotgun being eased back into the "you're in a heap of trouble, boy", position.
"Get your hands up, Mister."
Instinctively, I raised my right hand high over my head, at the same time realizing that in my left, I held about half of the stretched-out waistband of my underwear.
"BOTH hands...get `em up...or I'll fill your backside with buckshot. And turn around so I can see you."
A lot of things happened in the next few seconds. The dog stopped howling. I started to turn. I raised my left hand. The skivvies slid down to my ankles. I croaked out something about it being “just me, dearâ€