Lemony snickers on Route 66
by Mathew Paust
My first drama on that transcontinental passage, where one of its eastern feeders skirted our house. The grandmotherly lady stopped on the sidewalk to be friendly and let me pick some lemon drops from her bag. I ran home in horror after she'd walked out of sight, and dropped the light yellow, lightly sugared candies on the kitchen counter in front of my mother. Do NOT take candy from strangers, had been the lesson well learned. My mother laughed. She knew the lady. I could eat the candy. Lemon drops have given me a special tingle ever since.
Years later. Lemonade stand on the tree border. Me the proprietor, startled when the huge red slatted cattle truck pulled squealing to the curb and the little cowboy hopped out and walked over. He wore the hat, the flannel shirt, the jeans and the boots and had the bow-legged walk. Deeply tanned, but up close he seemed much younger than Gene Autry, the one I always became when we played cowboys and Indians. He placed a dime on the little table and I poured him an ice cold glass of the drink my mother had made with real lemons. He drank it fast.
The cowboy was friendly. Chatted up a storm. Went back to his cab and returned with a whip and demonstrated to me and my helper Mikey how to make it crack. Gave us a quarter tip and drank another glass. On his way to California, he said. Worked on a ranch. Promised to stop again on his return trip
We stared wistfully as his truck grumbled back to life and roared onto the highway headed west. Never saw him again.
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Fave, Mathew. Such a delightful story... even to a Roy Rogers fan with a necessary reminder of a certain Daniel Handler. I really enjoyed this well-written piece. Did I detect a possible Manson close?
Thanks, David. This cowboy would have been about 20 years older than Manson, I'm guessing. Maybe a doppelgänger from another time dimension.
The writing is very alive, Mathew - very real:
"The cowboy was friendly. Chatted up a storm. Went back to his cab and returned with a whip and demonstrated to me and my helper Mikey how to make it crack. Gave us a quarter tip and drank another glass. On his way to California, he said. Worked on a ranch. Promised to stop again on his return trip."
Enjoyed the writing. *
Thanks, Sam.
Roy Rogers could whip Gene Autry with one hand tied behind his back.
Wha? Take that! And this! A-and a little of that! biff! bam! pow! etc. Would you like to repeat that, huh? huh? Ooops, sorry Dale, I, uh, thought your were Roy... Home with a cold? Uh oh. How's about I sing you a little song? Hoooooome home onnnnnn the raaaaaaaaaaaange... OK OK...
I'll have to go with Con on this one. Let's start with a comparison of spouses: Roy Rogers and Dale Evans versus Gene Autry and Pat Butt-ram.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Zquk_DExKo
David, I am appalled!
Mathew, along with that you also write well. To wit: this piece.
Wow-- wasn't expecting the dark twist at the end. Well manipulated.*
I both love and hate the dark turn at the end. With or without the last couple sentences, it's a strong piece of writing.
Good characterization of the yearning for candy and magic in the narrator. *
Sweet little tale of boys and their dreams.
Trouble with our satellite server, which put me behind last and I just now discovered these delightful comments. Thanks, all. I shall respond on your walls.
Good one. Great ending, Mathew.*
John, thanks. And thanks for the inspiration!
Sally, I read it again with your advice in mind, and you were right. I cut out the leering Manson allusions. Much better this way. Many thanks!
Strangers with candy are friends, right?
Strangers no more!
This is a wonderful, wry and tart little story. Loved it!