Rodney Strange's Blog - Posts Tagged "funny"
'No Wooden Fences'
"Steerike three! Youuuur out!" The umpire threw his finger over his shoulder as umpires are paid to do and the pony tailed high schooler clad in a uniform worthy of a power ranger slumped her shoulders and made her way toward the dugout.
It was an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon and I adjusted my sunglasses and smiled. I glanced toward my daughter, manning her station in the outfield, ready to pounce on the next softball that ventured her way. Yes, life is good, I thought to myself. It really doesn't get much better than this.
This is what we do out here in Po-dunkville, Texas. We live the simple life. You folks up there in the city wouldn't understand. In fact, you forcefully tell us so. There's no mall in your tiny town...nary a Starbucks, they remind us! Not hundreds of miles of city streets to escape to, mangled with thousands of cars containing tens of thousands of city people on a mission to discover something to spend their time and money on. Only rarely will the city folks opt to stay home in their quarter-million dollar homes, perhaps venturing out into a minuscule back yard once or twice a summer to cook a steak on their propane grill. I don't blame them. I attended a cookout a friend invited me to up in the city once. Twenty people crowded into a back yard about the size of my bathroom, each taking a seat in those fancy chair-in-a-bag chairs and while they seemed to be be enjoying themselves, drinking beer and chatting about what city folks chat about, I stared at the six foot high wooden fence the whole time...wondering, just wondering...mostly about what was on the other side of that fence. It finally got to me and I wandered toward the gate and opened it, then returned to my chair-in-a-bag. The crowd grew quiet, staring my direction. Whispers floated through the air as people shot me side-glances as if I might be someone they might want to keep their eye on. Finally I spoke sheepishly,
"It was getting a little stuffy in here."
My friend laughed and announced to the group, "Just overlook him. He's not from around here!"
Well, I thank God for that! It was just a year ago that I had seriously considered moving to the city. I had thought it through for months and became convinced that perhaps it was time for a change. I had talked myself into the idea that I would be comfortable enough in an apartment somewhere in the depths of a bustling metropolis. A single man I am, free as a feather in the wind! Why heck! I could become a regular at Starbucks, sitting and sipping...well, I don't remember what it's called since I only hit Starbucks about twice a year. I'd probably have lots of time to write lots of books up there in the city. I wouldn't have grass to mow. Wouldn't have grass to look at, matter of fact. Yes, it almost happened...until...
God didn't have the same plans for me. In the blink of an eye, my plans changed and it became clear that I'd just have to stay right here in Po-dunkville. As it became crystal clear that I was destined to stay a small town boy, I began to look at my surroundings with a fresh set of eyes. I realized I could see pretty well here since there were no six foot wooden fences blocking my view. For the first time in a very long time, I realized I have been blessed all my life with the opportunity to live in a small rural community and all it has to offer.
It'd be hard for me to make you understand the difference between small town life and city life. Well yes, I have a general idea what city life is like. I think city folks probably waste a large part of their life waiting for the light to change. I mean that literally, as in there sure are lots of traffic lights in the city. We have two...maybe three...and they blink yellow after dark. There's more to it. We not only know each other...we care about each other. We have history with each other. We've sat together on cold steel bleachers watching our kids play ball. We bump into each other at weddings and funerals, and at church. Yes, we've prayed together and probably drank a beer together at one time or another.
Just the other night my daughter and I stepped into my favorite BBQ place in town and, barely inside the door, my eyes grew wide as I spotted a woman I had a few dates with once upon a time...waiting tables! No, our dating adventure didn't end badly, but it did end and some women hold a grudge about such things. But you know what the cool thing was? Not only did I know...and that waitress know...everybody else in there knew we had dated, and by gosh, that's what small towns are all about! I was getting texts while I dined on succulent barbecued brisket...from the staff giving me the heads up on this woman's schedule. Now I know when I can go eat barbecue without worrying about bumping into her. See, folks in small towns got your back!
Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, there are no fences to hold us back and very few red lights to slow us down on our quest to live life to the fullest! And heck...I have another softball game to go to. Just got a text from somebody that said the coast is clear...no old girlfriends in the bleachers!
It was an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon and I adjusted my sunglasses and smiled. I glanced toward my daughter, manning her station in the outfield, ready to pounce on the next softball that ventured her way. Yes, life is good, I thought to myself. It really doesn't get much better than this.
This is what we do out here in Po-dunkville, Texas. We live the simple life. You folks up there in the city wouldn't understand. In fact, you forcefully tell us so. There's no mall in your tiny town...nary a Starbucks, they remind us! Not hundreds of miles of city streets to escape to, mangled with thousands of cars containing tens of thousands of city people on a mission to discover something to spend their time and money on. Only rarely will the city folks opt to stay home in their quarter-million dollar homes, perhaps venturing out into a minuscule back yard once or twice a summer to cook a steak on their propane grill. I don't blame them. I attended a cookout a friend invited me to up in the city once. Twenty people crowded into a back yard about the size of my bathroom, each taking a seat in those fancy chair-in-a-bag chairs and while they seemed to be be enjoying themselves, drinking beer and chatting about what city folks chat about, I stared at the six foot high wooden fence the whole time...wondering, just wondering...mostly about what was on the other side of that fence. It finally got to me and I wandered toward the gate and opened it, then returned to my chair-in-a-bag. The crowd grew quiet, staring my direction. Whispers floated through the air as people shot me side-glances as if I might be someone they might want to keep their eye on. Finally I spoke sheepishly,
"It was getting a little stuffy in here."
My friend laughed and announced to the group, "Just overlook him. He's not from around here!"
Well, I thank God for that! It was just a year ago that I had seriously considered moving to the city. I had thought it through for months and became convinced that perhaps it was time for a change. I had talked myself into the idea that I would be comfortable enough in an apartment somewhere in the depths of a bustling metropolis. A single man I am, free as a feather in the wind! Why heck! I could become a regular at Starbucks, sitting and sipping...well, I don't remember what it's called since I only hit Starbucks about twice a year. I'd probably have lots of time to write lots of books up there in the city. I wouldn't have grass to mow. Wouldn't have grass to look at, matter of fact. Yes, it almost happened...until...
God didn't have the same plans for me. In the blink of an eye, my plans changed and it became clear that I'd just have to stay right here in Po-dunkville. As it became crystal clear that I was destined to stay a small town boy, I began to look at my surroundings with a fresh set of eyes. I realized I could see pretty well here since there were no six foot wooden fences blocking my view. For the first time in a very long time, I realized I have been blessed all my life with the opportunity to live in a small rural community and all it has to offer.
It'd be hard for me to make you understand the difference between small town life and city life. Well yes, I have a general idea what city life is like. I think city folks probably waste a large part of their life waiting for the light to change. I mean that literally, as in there sure are lots of traffic lights in the city. We have two...maybe three...and they blink yellow after dark. There's more to it. We not only know each other...we care about each other. We have history with each other. We've sat together on cold steel bleachers watching our kids play ball. We bump into each other at weddings and funerals, and at church. Yes, we've prayed together and probably drank a beer together at one time or another.
Just the other night my daughter and I stepped into my favorite BBQ place in town and, barely inside the door, my eyes grew wide as I spotted a woman I had a few dates with once upon a time...waiting tables! No, our dating adventure didn't end badly, but it did end and some women hold a grudge about such things. But you know what the cool thing was? Not only did I know...and that waitress know...everybody else in there knew we had dated, and by gosh, that's what small towns are all about! I was getting texts while I dined on succulent barbecued brisket...from the staff giving me the heads up on this woman's schedule. Now I know when I can go eat barbecue without worrying about bumping into her. See, folks in small towns got your back!
Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, there are no fences to hold us back and very few red lights to slow us down on our quest to live life to the fullest! And heck...I have another softball game to go to. Just got a text from somebody that said the coast is clear...no old girlfriends in the bleachers!
Targeted in Po-dunk, Texas
There has been a flurry of reports passing across my Facebook page the past week and I think I should warn you about this activity. Some of my local friends and a host of other folks in our little po-dunk town raised alarm throughout the community when they began noticing their fences bearing an unfamiliar mark on the back gates leading into their alleys. Each marking was identical, an 'X' spray painted with gold paint. As they began to virtually discuss this amongst themselves on Facebook, more and more people joined in with their theories. Some declared that back yards that were home to family dogs were being targeted by low life types who would eventually return to steal Fido.. According to those in the loop, it was common practice to train fighting pit bulls with non-aggressive family pets. Numerous locals were up in arms at the thought of their dogs being maimed, tortured, and left to die an agonizing death. The momentum continued to escalate for several days until someone ventured along to discredit this theory.
No, they announced, it was not the family pet that was being targeted. In fact, a ring of thieves were setting up plans to raid numerous homes while the inhabitants were away, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. They knew it was gospel truth as Fox News had aired a story about this identical method of operation somewhere over in New Mexico. Well, the group, which had now mushroomed into the hundreds, began plotting how they could fend off these burglaries. Being devout Texans and all, the discussion turned to self protection...yes, guns. Many openly taunted the would be burglars right there on Facebook.
"We'll blow you straight to hell!" they declared. Other's bragged about their arsenals of weaponry they maintained within their homes, a move I thought not so wise if there really were burglars lurking around. Another few days passed and the fury mounted. A citizen's army bearing weapons of mass destruction stood ready to assault. My eyes bulged as I read through the hundreds of posts and I found myself somewhat relieved that I lived out in the country where burglars rarely venture...townsfolk either, I thought to myself. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I felt relatively safe out here all alone.
But lo and behold, just hours before the war broke out, yet another expert came forward. Nay, he declared, it was neither dog poachers or burglars...but organized gangs. Yes, he was sure the markings were signs of the underworld. Those whose fences were marked were targeted for plundering, rape, torture, and death. Their houses would be torched afterward to cover the evidence. The facebook poster knew it to be true because his nephew's brother-in-law's sister's kid was in prison...and he knew about such things as this. The brave fervor that had covered the pages of facebook for days waned. Only a few admitted their fear. Others scurried to delete every remark they had so gallantly posted in the previous days. How could Po-dunk, Texas have drawn the attention of the most vicious scum of the land? We've all opted to live in the seclusion of west Texas to avoid the evil of the world. Why, oh, why has this plague come down upon us?
It was Friday night when it all became so crystal clear. A post appeared before my eyes and as I read it, tears came to my eyes. It read like this:
"Hi friends! I have been out of town all week and just came across this post. As you know, I own numerous rent houses throughout town and as I scanned through all these posts, I realized I own all the houses that have been marked. Just want you to know...I had instructed my maintenance man to mark all those fences for the spraying company I've hired to kill weeds in the alleyways. So sorry for the confusion, but you can rest easy knowing you will not have to mow weeds in your alleys this spring!"
So...the Walmart is out of gold spray paint...and dern near every fence in town has a gold mark on it. Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, we may be a little slow, but we ain't stupid, and we're sure not going to miss an opportunity to get our weeds sprayed for free!
No, they announced, it was not the family pet that was being targeted. In fact, a ring of thieves were setting up plans to raid numerous homes while the inhabitants were away, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. They knew it was gospel truth as Fox News had aired a story about this identical method of operation somewhere over in New Mexico. Well, the group, which had now mushroomed into the hundreds, began plotting how they could fend off these burglaries. Being devout Texans and all, the discussion turned to self protection...yes, guns. Many openly taunted the would be burglars right there on Facebook.
"We'll blow you straight to hell!" they declared. Other's bragged about their arsenals of weaponry they maintained within their homes, a move I thought not so wise if there really were burglars lurking around. Another few days passed and the fury mounted. A citizen's army bearing weapons of mass destruction stood ready to assault. My eyes bulged as I read through the hundreds of posts and I found myself somewhat relieved that I lived out in the country where burglars rarely venture...townsfolk either, I thought to myself. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I felt relatively safe out here all alone.
But lo and behold, just hours before the war broke out, yet another expert came forward. Nay, he declared, it was neither dog poachers or burglars...but organized gangs. Yes, he was sure the markings were signs of the underworld. Those whose fences were marked were targeted for plundering, rape, torture, and death. Their houses would be torched afterward to cover the evidence. The facebook poster knew it to be true because his nephew's brother-in-law's sister's kid was in prison...and he knew about such things as this. The brave fervor that had covered the pages of facebook for days waned. Only a few admitted their fear. Others scurried to delete every remark they had so gallantly posted in the previous days. How could Po-dunk, Texas have drawn the attention of the most vicious scum of the land? We've all opted to live in the seclusion of west Texas to avoid the evil of the world. Why, oh, why has this plague come down upon us?
It was Friday night when it all became so crystal clear. A post appeared before my eyes and as I read it, tears came to my eyes. It read like this:
"Hi friends! I have been out of town all week and just came across this post. As you know, I own numerous rent houses throughout town and as I scanned through all these posts, I realized I own all the houses that have been marked. Just want you to know...I had instructed my maintenance man to mark all those fences for the spraying company I've hired to kill weeds in the alleyways. So sorry for the confusion, but you can rest easy knowing you will not have to mow weeds in your alleys this spring!"
So...the Walmart is out of gold spray paint...and dern near every fence in town has a gold mark on it. Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, we may be a little slow, but we ain't stupid, and we're sure not going to miss an opportunity to get our weeds sprayed for free!
