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Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Uncle Tells a Story

    I remember the first time I saw a locomotion engine rolling down some tracks.  I saw some cattle being transported in a box car, and I hopped in, g’warm.  The cow hands on the other end of the line told me it was the damndest thing they ever saw- a man riding the freight train when there was a passenger train to ride for only 25 cents. "Do I look like I have 25 cents, asshole?" I asked. Those cowboys guffawed over that one. It was at the time that I pioneered the art of train-hoppin' a few years before canned beans and overalls, but I digest.
   Cowboys is all Texans and in Texas they don't hold no stock in evolution or the moon landing, but they do value the pro-wrestling. Now I hear a lot of queers, sissies, and  Democrats claim that professional wrasslin ain't real, but apparently they ain't been in the front rows, spat on, bled on, and sweat on. Well, let me tale you one time I was at a county-fair outside of Ft. Worth, and  I seen that there were a tough-man contest with  a prize of $10 to the man who could stand for 10 minutes with a man known as "The Colossus."  My memory ain't quite what it used to be, but as  I remember, the  Colussus's name was Jason Krueger, and he would later be arrested for chainsaw murders on Halloween. He was tusslin with another one of them travelin' wrasslers of lesser size and getting knocked around a good bit too.  That skinny one tossed that behemoth against a rope, which does snap you back like a slingshot as any skilled pugilist like myself knows, and then little runt forearmed that giant's forehead  so hard that it was like the big 'un fell a few seconds before actual contact-now that's fast- at the time I thought it was too fast. Seein as I come from a long tradition of grizzly bear wrangling, I thought  to myself that $10 was an awful lot of spirits for a few broken teeth and the favors of carnival whores that would surely follow my victory. Well, things didn't turn out quite as expected, and in fact my entire jaw was put back together by a local tinsmith. That Ole Colussus Krueger smacked me out black in 5 seconds flat. My pride was injured( and my choppers of course too).
 A few years down the road, I caught up with that sumbitch in Mobile where he was getting ready to brawl that fancy pants Gorgeous George. I couldn't stand for a wrassler knockin' me out fair and square so I pushed past the Pinkertons and rushed the ring. If it were all fake, then I don't think the police would've objected to me gettin in on the make-believe and addin to the marks' fun, but then I ended up spending the night in the jug with all them local cotton pickin', barn burnin',cider sippin',mountain dew swillin' Burger King experts laughin at me.

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