One day a few months ago I was talking to someone about going into a compound with Bengal tigers and spending some time taking their pictures and getting acquainted. Their eyes became rather large when I went on to tell about my day in the snake house with 25-30 foot long reticulated pythons.
Their reaction made me think. Maybe other people might be interested in my nine years as a reporter/editor with a rural weekly newspaper. The more I thought about it, the more stories came back to me. Occurrences that I’d nearly forgotten. There were the naked hunters, and the time an entire basketball team trampled over my reclining body when I wasn’t even supposed to be covering sports anyway.
Now, I figure all I have to do to get attention for this memoir, if I ever get past the first few incidents, is do something so outrageous that I’ll become famous overnight. I was hoping my readers could come up with some suggestions. See, I live in this small town, population 399 souls, that’s not counting all the farmers who come to town occasionally. We only have a library, a quick-trip, city hall and two beauty salons, they closed our school a couple years ago. Oh, the sheriff has a small sub station here too. So what can I do?
Might have to go to town, that’s Fayetteville, about 21 miles north of here. It’s a college town, though, so I doubt I could do much of anything that hasn’t already been tried there. I thought of calling the Hogs on Dickson Street in the nude while drinking a purple margarita, but that would be so frightening for viewers it would strike them dumb and they would never speak of it again.
Tell you what, while I work on my memoirs, you guys get together and come up with something to make it a best seller. I’ll make sure and mention your names in the book.
Forgive me for this post, but this is after all #21 and I’m not nearly as clever as Marvin, who just gets better with each post, while I’m petering out here, guys. Help me!