It would have been hard to give a report last eve' as I was not even sure where it was that I was located. I was at the Red Apple Inn, but while I was there, I was not 'zactly sure where there was located. It turned out, this mornin', when I awoke and discovered my whereabouts that the Red Apple Inn is located in Forest, Mississippi. I'd been pretty sure I was in Mississippi, to be truthful, jes' was unsure in which li'l burg within such state I was sittin’. I had happened 'pon the Red Apple Inn via a slick marketin' scheme that possibly only snared me, alone. ‘Seems that I was gettin' quite weary, cruisin' 'long I-20 in the midst of Jackson, Mississippi, and was eye-ballin', peripherally so, the roadside billboards in hopes o’ findin’ a bargain price 'mongst the dozen or so choices ‘pon display. My eye happened to catch an advertisement for the Red Apple Inn, 31 miles away. I was feelin' charitable and figgered any innkeeper that was investin' good money in the inane exercise of hopin’ to convince people to pass on a plethora of accommodation choices and, instead, to drive another half-hour to use their establishment, was more likely in need of my money than was the local establishments. I did, therefore, pass up on that plethora of choices and pulled off the road when I saw that little blue sign they have on the sides of Interstate Highways now to tell ya what you will find at each exit upon seein’ Red Apple Inn. I easily located said establishment, checked in, and was asleep soon thereafter.
I am now in Tullahoma, Tennessee, havin’ arrived, unexpected as predicted and was lucky enough to have gotten here jes’ as Christmas dinner was bein’ served so that I was able to see my sister, brother-in-law, both my nieces, and the fiancée of one of my nieces, in attendance.
It is now nearin’ time for the annual, once-a-year, eight hour flyin’ reindeer huntin’ season to start, so I am gonna go find a 30.06 and sit up on the roof lookin’ for a chance to blow one of them jinglin’ monsters right outta the sky. I am usually an animal lovin’ human bean, but have ya ever seen what kind of mess one of those beasts can leave on the windshield of your car? Like mosquitos, snakes, grasshoppers, and the like, flyin’ reindeer are worthless vermin, in my opinion. I ain’t never worried ‘bout swattin’ a squeeter, so ya can bet I ain’t gonna have a qualm with blowin' that shiny red nose right off of Rudolph's smilin' face. My navel finds huntin’, in any form, to be an appallin' practice. End of report.
Merry Christmas, Tig. Keep rockin'.
Posted by: Jim - PRS at December 24, 2004 10:05 PM