Carl's Corner
Just a note before the tale.....
I got yet another shitty, anonymous email from someone who, this time, suggested that I, "get over myself" which, prompted me to address an issue which, I hope ya'll will accept in the manner in which it is offered.
Here goes nothing.......
Sometimes, in the telling of my life stories, I get the feeling that some folks might think that I'm bragging on myself or trying to act as though I was God's gift to women and/or the music world. Trust me....
I was neither.
Still ain't.
The absolute truth is simple...
Musically, singing and playing, I was and am, quite frankly.....talented.
Sound arrogant?
Read on.
I was a pretty decent looking guy in my youth. So....quite naturally, I did pretty well in the music and the lady departments.
Sorry if that sounds arrogant but....that's the way it was.
However, I have always been uncomfortable when people complimented me on my singing talents because, I never felt as though it was something that I had accomplished.
It just WAS.
I always thought it was somewhat like complimenting a man on being seven feet tall. Shit.....it is what it is. No accomplishment there.......right?
Musical talent is the same thing as being seven feet tall...you can't take credit for either.
I know people who would crawl over a mile of ground glass to be able to carry a friggin' tune in a bucket yet, when I opened my mouth, I was able to sing at a level where people actually paid to hear me.
I never trained, worked, or even gave it much thought...it just came out sounding pretty good I guess.
Hell, my whole family can sing!
I don't know of one single person in my family for two generations who couldn't sing and...most could play the hell out of one or more instruments.
God knows why, but it's true.
Not one of us ever got famous or rich but....we were pretty good.
Not great.
Just pretty damned good.
I guess you could say that I'm a member of the "Lucky Sperm Club" in the musical sense.
The worst thing I've ever heard about my musical skills was when a record exec once said that I sounded too much like Kenny Rogers to ever make it and another time when two old guitar players who were in the crowd said that I had only played five chords in ten songs!! Damn......that STUNG!
It was TRUE but still......damn....that hurt!
Back in "the day", I was a big fish in several small ponds musically, over the years. I played with some pretty big fish, I made good money as a sessions singer and was employed playing music in bars for a lot of years BUT.....
I am not bragging!
Hell, you don't see me on TV or selling CD's or even appearing as some pathetic has-been on some, One Hit Wonder show.
I wasn't even that.
How sad is THAT?
What the hell do I have to brag about?
NOTHING
I have led a somewhat colorful life....at times but....I ain't braggin' about anything except for maybe...the fact that I lived through those years!!.
I'm just an old honky tonk player with a bunch of memories so please....if you're gonna read this drivel, don't think I'm bragging...it's just real shit that really happened the way I'm telling you it happened.
PERIOD.
Ok...now that THAT'S settled.....
On To The Story.....
In the early eighties, my old buddy, Tony H. was playing music in Charlotte, NC and I was playing in the Columbia, SC area. As luck would have it, Tony was just emerging from a nasty divorce and I had just left my second wife. Poor old Tony had been literally left homeless with no money in the deal.
I had recently told my wife to keep everything and that all I wanted was OUT.
As a result, I was living above a courier service garage in a tiny little appartment which featured one of those old Murphy beds. You've seen 'em in the old movies. Once you got out of bed, you would lift it up into the wall which, in this case, left a living space about the same size as our master bedroom nowadays but...I was happy as damned lark.
I was FREE!
I had been playing in a band for awhile but, around the same time that I left the marriage, the band broke up and, I was left with no place to play....or.... the means to make a living!
Tony called me around that time frame and told me that he had to get away from Charlotte...not to mention his maniacle rednecked ex-wife. He wanted to come stay with me a while until he could figure things out.
I told him to come on down and we'd work something out. Hell, at least I'd have him around to party with and we had always been tight musically and personally.
One morning, I awoke around ten a.m. to the sound of a LOUD alarm.
I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed my guitars and ran downstairs. Surely to God the place was on fire!
It sounded like it should be on fire!!
As I reached the bottom floor, I saw a little old guy hunched over a car battery with wires protruding from it which were attached to an object that looked like a fire house alarm bell.
The old guy looked up to see me standing there barefooted in a pair of jeans, no shirt, carrying two guitar cases and looking PANICKED!
He yanked one of the wires away from the battery and, thankfully, the noise ended.
He rose to his full height of approximately five feet and grabbed the big old bell as if he was going to pummell me with it.
"Who the hell are you?" he screamed.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Picture Barney Fife and Warren Oates rolled into one and you'de have old Carl. Complete with the terminal case of tremors!
To make matters even more comical, he had a very high nasally voice so that his voice sounded like a frightened duck!
What a voice!
I finally managed to regain my composure just as he hollered at me again.
"What are you doin' here!" he demanded in a "terrified duck" sort of voice.
Again, I could NOT help myself, I started laughing so hard that I had to set my guitars down on the floor while trying to catch my breath.
I looked at him as I was laughing and noticed that he too had begun to laugh.
I suppose both of us realized how stupid we looked to each other and we just howled for a few minutes while he pointed at me and I pointed at him with not one word spoken.
Finally, we recovered our collective composure and stopped laughing....almost.
"Man! Where the hell did you get that bell? The friggin' Titanic?" I asked.
"Where the hell did you come from?" he quacked.
We started laughing again.
"You first." I demanded.
"Screw you boy....you're in my house! Who are you and what are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm living upstairs." I told him.
He thought about that a second until a look of clarity came across his face.
"Oh yeah...you're the kid Elizabeth told me about."
"Yeah well, she didn't tell me anything about you old man." I said.
He got all fiesty on me.
"Who're you callin' "old man"?" he snapped.
I laughed.
"Hey, if you can call me a "kid" I can call you "old man" right?" I asked.
He turned around and placed that awful bell on top of an incredibly cluttered desk.
"Well, you have a point I suppose but believe me young man, it's a lot cooler to be called a kid than an old man. You should hope you live long enough to realize that." he groused.
"Well, if you don't give me a damned heart attack with that friggin' bell every morning, I might live long enough to do just that." I told him.
Just then, a call came in over the radio on his desk. He held up a finger, motioning for me to hold on.
"Carl here."
A disimbodied voice answered.
"Hey Carl...this damned truck is dead. I'm out on I-26 deader than Socrates!"
"Well shit on a stick Chuck! You're supposed to be picking up a package over at Allied Chemicals in forty five minutes and headin' straight to Charlotte." he hollered into the mic.
Silence.
"Chuck....did you copy that?"
"Well.... yeah Carl, I heard you but, um, in case you forgot...I'm in a dead fuckin' truck......sittin' on the side of the fucking ROAD!!!" he screamed.
"Well aren't WE touchy?" Carl glared at the mic.
"Carl, either send out a wrecker NOW or I'm hitch hikin' back to town and stranglin' your ass!"
"Ten-Four.....asshole." he snarled.
Just then, the front door opened.
It was the owner of the business AND the building..... Elizabeth.
She looked at me standing there half dressed with two guitar cases at my feet.
She had a sly, flirtatious look on her face.
"Well, this is a pleasant change from seeing Carl's ugly mug when I come in!" She had one of those heavy smoker voices. "You keep showin' up like this for me every morning and I'm gonna have to cut your rent." she winked.
"Well, actually, I thought the place was burnin' down. Carl here was testing that damned bell and I jumped up to rescue my guitars." I grinned.
Carl interrupted.
" 'Liz....Chucks broken down on I-26 and he ain't gonna make it to Allied. I've gotta get the truck out to him and haul him back."
"What are you doing about the Allied trip?" she demanded.
"I reckon I'll call Allied and tell 'em we can't make it till later." he told her.
She shook her head.
"Nope...can't do that." she said. She looked at me. "What are you doing today?" she asked.
"Actually, I'm gonna try and find a job." I said.
"Don't waste your time...you've already got one. Can you drive?" she asked.
"Sure."
She grinned.
"Well, your hired...I was lookin' for another driver anyway." she told me. "Besides....I like lookin' at you."
There I stood.... getting flirted at by a 50 year plus brassy old broad who had just solved my financial problems.
"Well, thank you ma'am."
"Don't thank me yet boy...go get some clothes on and be back down here in ten minutes." she barked.
What could I say?
I did just what she told me to do.
Within a half hour, I was pulling into Allied Chemicals where they loaded the little Mazda pick up truck with numerous boxes and gave me directions to my destination just outside Charlotte.
I made great time and made it back to the office.....my appartment, before eight that evening.
Elizabeth and Carl were waiting for me.
As I walked into the office, I saw that Elizabeth and Carl were sitting in the cramped little office playing cards, a bottle of V.O. on the desk between them.
"Hey guys....I'm back." I said.
Liz looked up with that mischevious grin of hers.
"Look Carl...he didn't steal the truck!!" she said.
"Who the hell is gonna steal a Mazda truck with 200,000 miles on it which....oh by the way, smells like fuckin' armpit?" I snapped.
She laughed.
"Oh yeah...you did drive that one didn't you?"
"I guess so lady...the damn thing stinks to high heaven." I answered.
Carl laughed and looked at Elizabeth.
"Should we tell him?" he asked.
I could tell that ole Liz was a serious drinker and that she had already had a few. She snorted a bit as she said.
"Carl, I'm gonna fire your ass one of these days."
"Fuck you Liz, you can't fire me and you know it." he laughed. He looked at me and grinned. "That truck ain't never smelled too good since ole Vince lost his head in it."
They both laughed like mad.
"Ok...what's so funny? Did he puke in it?" I asked.
They just howled.
I was getting tired of their private joke so, I turned to head upstairs to my tiny little appartment.
"Hey you little prick!" Elizabeth shouted.
I stopped, turned around and glared at her.
"Can you play them guitars?" she asked sweetly.
She caught me off guard.
"Well....yeah but, only one at a time." I said.
"Why don't you go get one and play us a tune?" she asked.
"Because I'm tired and I smell like a friggin' armpit from driving the puke truck all day." I said emphatically.
She and Carl damn near fell out of their chairs laughing.
"Would ya'll mind giving me a heads up as to what's so fucking funny?" I asked.
Well damn!! You'de have thought I was the funniest son of bitch on the planet!!
Those two were damned near convulsing! They were laughing so hard!
I headed up the stairs, leaving them to their private joke.
Screw 'em.
I was just settling down in front of the television when I heard a knock on my door.
Opening the door, I saw Elizabeth standing there with a bottle of beer in her hand. She was smiling.
"What?" I demanded.
"Wanna beer?" she asked.
I just stared at her.
"Look...thanks for making that run to Charlotte for me. You saved me a contract. I owe you." she said.
I reached out and accepted the beer.
She walked into the room before I could invite her in. She looked around as though she had never seen the place before.
"I love what you've done with this place" she remarked.
I looked around the room. I had "done" NOTHING to the damned place aside from filling it with all my stuff.
No wall hangings, personal stuff or decor.
It was pretty much the same as when I had moved in.
"Yeah, I'm an interior designer at heart." I cracked. "It's a gift."
She laughed then, looked at me.
"I'm sorry we lost it down there but.....it was sooooo damned funny!"
"How so?" I asked.
She shifted uncomfortably in the chair then composed herself.
"Old Vince got depressed one night a while back and, well damn it....he LITERALLY blew his head off six months ago. We didn't find him until he had been in that damned truck for three days....in one hundred degree heat....with the windows rolled up!" the crazy broad was laughing hysterically.
I had one of those spine tingling, "just saw a snake", sensations! Holy shit! I had just spent the whole day smelling a dead guy!
Fuck me to tears!!
I was damned near to the point of pukin' my guts up at this point!!
"You could have told me about that little fact!" I shouted.
She just grinned and asked...."Would you have made the run for me if you had known?"
"Hell no!" I answered.
"Well....there's your answer then! That's some sick shit ain't it? Poor old Vince." she chuckled.
She sat in the one chair in the room and looked at me.
"Son....lighten the hell up!" she said. "Life is all about finding out that the candy you just ate was once shit on by a fuckin' rat!"
I thought about that for a second until my head almost exploded.
"Is that supposed to make some sort of sense?" I asked. "I'm just wondering."
She shook her head as though I was a short bus riding student.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"Yeah, actually I am." I admitted.
"Come on....let's go down to the "Corner" and get a steak....I'm buyin'."
Being young, perpetually hungry and....oh yeah, BROKE...I leapt at the offer! Suddenly, the whole "driving the "dead guy" truck all day" prank on the new guy wasn't so important!!
"Sure, let me get a shower....I'll meet you downstairs." I said.
"I could scrub your back you know." she purred.
Dear Lord! She was an old lady for God's sake!!
I started to say something but, she interrupted me.
"I'm kidding...I'll see you downstairs in a little bit"
Thank you God!!
She got up and walked to the door.
"What's "The Corner" I asked.
She smiled and said, "Carl's Corner"...it's my place...I own it.... You're gonna love it!"
To Be Continued.....
I got yet another shitty, anonymous email from someone who, this time, suggested that I, "get over myself" which, prompted me to address an issue which, I hope ya'll will accept in the manner in which it is offered.
Here goes nothing.......
Sometimes, in the telling of my life stories, I get the feeling that some folks might think that I'm bragging on myself or trying to act as though I was God's gift to women and/or the music world. Trust me....
I was neither.
Still ain't.
The absolute truth is simple...
Musically, singing and playing, I was and am, quite frankly.....talented.
Sound arrogant?
Read on.
I was a pretty decent looking guy in my youth. So....quite naturally, I did pretty well in the music and the lady departments.
Sorry if that sounds arrogant but....that's the way it was.
However, I have always been uncomfortable when people complimented me on my singing talents because, I never felt as though it was something that I had accomplished.
It just WAS.
I always thought it was somewhat like complimenting a man on being seven feet tall. Shit.....it is what it is. No accomplishment there.......right?
Musical talent is the same thing as being seven feet tall...you can't take credit for either.
I know people who would crawl over a mile of ground glass to be able to carry a friggin' tune in a bucket yet, when I opened my mouth, I was able to sing at a level where people actually paid to hear me.
I never trained, worked, or even gave it much thought...it just came out sounding pretty good I guess.
Hell, my whole family can sing!
I don't know of one single person in my family for two generations who couldn't sing and...most could play the hell out of one or more instruments.
God knows why, but it's true.
Not one of us ever got famous or rich but....we were pretty good.
Not great.
Just pretty damned good.
I guess you could say that I'm a member of the "Lucky Sperm Club" in the musical sense.
The worst thing I've ever heard about my musical skills was when a record exec once said that I sounded too much like Kenny Rogers to ever make it and another time when two old guitar players who were in the crowd said that I had only played five chords in ten songs!! Damn......that STUNG!
It was TRUE but still......damn....that hurt!
Back in "the day", I was a big fish in several small ponds musically, over the years. I played with some pretty big fish, I made good money as a sessions singer and was employed playing music in bars for a lot of years BUT.....
I am not bragging!
Hell, you don't see me on TV or selling CD's or even appearing as some pathetic has-been on some, One Hit Wonder show.
I wasn't even that.
How sad is THAT?
What the hell do I have to brag about?
NOTHING
I have led a somewhat colorful life....at times but....I ain't braggin' about anything except for maybe...the fact that I lived through those years!!.
I'm just an old honky tonk player with a bunch of memories so please....if you're gonna read this drivel, don't think I'm bragging...it's just real shit that really happened the way I'm telling you it happened.
PERIOD.
Ok...now that THAT'S settled.....
On To The Story.....
In the early eighties, my old buddy, Tony H. was playing music in Charlotte, NC and I was playing in the Columbia, SC area. As luck would have it, Tony was just emerging from a nasty divorce and I had just left my second wife. Poor old Tony had been literally left homeless with no money in the deal.
I had recently told my wife to keep everything and that all I wanted was OUT.
As a result, I was living above a courier service garage in a tiny little appartment which featured one of those old Murphy beds. You've seen 'em in the old movies. Once you got out of bed, you would lift it up into the wall which, in this case, left a living space about the same size as our master bedroom nowadays but...I was happy as damned lark.
I was FREE!
I had been playing in a band for awhile but, around the same time that I left the marriage, the band broke up and, I was left with no place to play....or.... the means to make a living!
Tony called me around that time frame and told me that he had to get away from Charlotte...not to mention his maniacle rednecked ex-wife. He wanted to come stay with me a while until he could figure things out.
I told him to come on down and we'd work something out. Hell, at least I'd have him around to party with and we had always been tight musically and personally.
One morning, I awoke around ten a.m. to the sound of a LOUD alarm.
I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed my guitars and ran downstairs. Surely to God the place was on fire!
It sounded like it should be on fire!!
As I reached the bottom floor, I saw a little old guy hunched over a car battery with wires protruding from it which were attached to an object that looked like a fire house alarm bell.
The old guy looked up to see me standing there barefooted in a pair of jeans, no shirt, carrying two guitar cases and looking PANICKED!
He yanked one of the wires away from the battery and, thankfully, the noise ended.
He rose to his full height of approximately five feet and grabbed the big old bell as if he was going to pummell me with it.
"Who the hell are you?" he screamed.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Picture Barney Fife and Warren Oates rolled into one and you'de have old Carl. Complete with the terminal case of tremors!
To make matters even more comical, he had a very high nasally voice so that his voice sounded like a frightened duck!
What a voice!
I finally managed to regain my composure just as he hollered at me again.
"What are you doin' here!" he demanded in a "terrified duck" sort of voice.
Again, I could NOT help myself, I started laughing so hard that I had to set my guitars down on the floor while trying to catch my breath.
I looked at him as I was laughing and noticed that he too had begun to laugh.
I suppose both of us realized how stupid we looked to each other and we just howled for a few minutes while he pointed at me and I pointed at him with not one word spoken.
Finally, we recovered our collective composure and stopped laughing....almost.
"Man! Where the hell did you get that bell? The friggin' Titanic?" I asked.
"Where the hell did you come from?" he quacked.
We started laughing again.
"You first." I demanded.
"Screw you boy....you're in my house! Who are you and what are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm living upstairs." I told him.
He thought about that a second until a look of clarity came across his face.
"Oh yeah...you're the kid Elizabeth told me about."
"Yeah well, she didn't tell me anything about you old man." I said.
He got all fiesty on me.
"Who're you callin' "old man"?" he snapped.
I laughed.
"Hey, if you can call me a "kid" I can call you "old man" right?" I asked.
He turned around and placed that awful bell on top of an incredibly cluttered desk.
"Well, you have a point I suppose but believe me young man, it's a lot cooler to be called a kid than an old man. You should hope you live long enough to realize that." he groused.
"Well, if you don't give me a damned heart attack with that friggin' bell every morning, I might live long enough to do just that." I told him.
Just then, a call came in over the radio on his desk. He held up a finger, motioning for me to hold on.
"Carl here."
A disimbodied voice answered.
"Hey Carl...this damned truck is dead. I'm out on I-26 deader than Socrates!"
"Well shit on a stick Chuck! You're supposed to be picking up a package over at Allied Chemicals in forty five minutes and headin' straight to Charlotte." he hollered into the mic.
Silence.
"Chuck....did you copy that?"
"Well.... yeah Carl, I heard you but, um, in case you forgot...I'm in a dead fuckin' truck......sittin' on the side of the fucking ROAD!!!" he screamed.
"Well aren't WE touchy?" Carl glared at the mic.
"Carl, either send out a wrecker NOW or I'm hitch hikin' back to town and stranglin' your ass!"
"Ten-Four.....asshole." he snarled.
Just then, the front door opened.
It was the owner of the business AND the building..... Elizabeth.
She looked at me standing there half dressed with two guitar cases at my feet.
She had a sly, flirtatious look on her face.
"Well, this is a pleasant change from seeing Carl's ugly mug when I come in!" She had one of those heavy smoker voices. "You keep showin' up like this for me every morning and I'm gonna have to cut your rent." she winked.
"Well, actually, I thought the place was burnin' down. Carl here was testing that damned bell and I jumped up to rescue my guitars." I grinned.
Carl interrupted.
" 'Liz....Chucks broken down on I-26 and he ain't gonna make it to Allied. I've gotta get the truck out to him and haul him back."
"What are you doing about the Allied trip?" she demanded.
"I reckon I'll call Allied and tell 'em we can't make it till later." he told her.
She shook her head.
"Nope...can't do that." she said. She looked at me. "What are you doing today?" she asked.
"Actually, I'm gonna try and find a job." I said.
"Don't waste your time...you've already got one. Can you drive?" she asked.
"Sure."
She grinned.
"Well, your hired...I was lookin' for another driver anyway." she told me. "Besides....I like lookin' at you."
There I stood.... getting flirted at by a 50 year plus brassy old broad who had just solved my financial problems.
"Well, thank you ma'am."
"Don't thank me yet boy...go get some clothes on and be back down here in ten minutes." she barked.
What could I say?
I did just what she told me to do.
Within a half hour, I was pulling into Allied Chemicals where they loaded the little Mazda pick up truck with numerous boxes and gave me directions to my destination just outside Charlotte.
I made great time and made it back to the office.....my appartment, before eight that evening.
Elizabeth and Carl were waiting for me.
As I walked into the office, I saw that Elizabeth and Carl were sitting in the cramped little office playing cards, a bottle of V.O. on the desk between them.
"Hey guys....I'm back." I said.
Liz looked up with that mischevious grin of hers.
"Look Carl...he didn't steal the truck!!" she said.
"Who the hell is gonna steal a Mazda truck with 200,000 miles on it which....oh by the way, smells like fuckin' armpit?" I snapped.
She laughed.
"Oh yeah...you did drive that one didn't you?"
"I guess so lady...the damn thing stinks to high heaven." I answered.
Carl laughed and looked at Elizabeth.
"Should we tell him?" he asked.
I could tell that ole Liz was a serious drinker and that she had already had a few. She snorted a bit as she said.
"Carl, I'm gonna fire your ass one of these days."
"Fuck you Liz, you can't fire me and you know it." he laughed. He looked at me and grinned. "That truck ain't never smelled too good since ole Vince lost his head in it."
They both laughed like mad.
"Ok...what's so funny? Did he puke in it?" I asked.
They just howled.
I was getting tired of their private joke so, I turned to head upstairs to my tiny little appartment.
"Hey you little prick!" Elizabeth shouted.
I stopped, turned around and glared at her.
"Can you play them guitars?" she asked sweetly.
She caught me off guard.
"Well....yeah but, only one at a time." I said.
"Why don't you go get one and play us a tune?" she asked.
"Because I'm tired and I smell like a friggin' armpit from driving the puke truck all day." I said emphatically.
She and Carl damn near fell out of their chairs laughing.
"Would ya'll mind giving me a heads up as to what's so fucking funny?" I asked.
Well damn!! You'de have thought I was the funniest son of bitch on the planet!!
Those two were damned near convulsing! They were laughing so hard!
I headed up the stairs, leaving them to their private joke.
Screw 'em.
I was just settling down in front of the television when I heard a knock on my door.
Opening the door, I saw Elizabeth standing there with a bottle of beer in her hand. She was smiling.
"What?" I demanded.
"Wanna beer?" she asked.
I just stared at her.
"Look...thanks for making that run to Charlotte for me. You saved me a contract. I owe you." she said.
I reached out and accepted the beer.
She walked into the room before I could invite her in. She looked around as though she had never seen the place before.
"I love what you've done with this place" she remarked.
I looked around the room. I had "done" NOTHING to the damned place aside from filling it with all my stuff.
No wall hangings, personal stuff or decor.
It was pretty much the same as when I had moved in.
"Yeah, I'm an interior designer at heart." I cracked. "It's a gift."
She laughed then, looked at me.
"I'm sorry we lost it down there but.....it was sooooo damned funny!"
"How so?" I asked.
She shifted uncomfortably in the chair then composed herself.
"Old Vince got depressed one night a while back and, well damn it....he LITERALLY blew his head off six months ago. We didn't find him until he had been in that damned truck for three days....in one hundred degree heat....with the windows rolled up!" the crazy broad was laughing hysterically.
I had one of those spine tingling, "just saw a snake", sensations! Holy shit! I had just spent the whole day smelling a dead guy!
Fuck me to tears!!
I was damned near to the point of pukin' my guts up at this point!!
"You could have told me about that little fact!" I shouted.
She just grinned and asked...."Would you have made the run for me if you had known?"
"Hell no!" I answered.
"Well....there's your answer then! That's some sick shit ain't it? Poor old Vince." she chuckled.
She sat in the one chair in the room and looked at me.
"Son....lighten the hell up!" she said. "Life is all about finding out that the candy you just ate was once shit on by a fuckin' rat!"
I thought about that for a second until my head almost exploded.
"Is that supposed to make some sort of sense?" I asked. "I'm just wondering."
She shook her head as though I was a short bus riding student.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"Yeah, actually I am." I admitted.
"Come on....let's go down to the "Corner" and get a steak....I'm buyin'."
Being young, perpetually hungry and....oh yeah, BROKE...I leapt at the offer! Suddenly, the whole "driving the "dead guy" truck all day" prank on the new guy wasn't so important!!
"Sure, let me get a shower....I'll meet you downstairs." I said.
"I could scrub your back you know." she purred.
Dear Lord! She was an old lady for God's sake!!
I started to say something but, she interrupted me.
"I'm kidding...I'll see you downstairs in a little bit"
Thank you God!!
She got up and walked to the door.
"What's "The Corner" I asked.
She smiled and said, "Carl's Corner"...it's my place...I own it.... You're gonna love it!"
To Be Continued.....
posted by Rantin' Ron | 1:03 AM
17 Comments:
Thanks , Ron ! Another story to hang on the seat of my chair for . Did a lot of hotshot trucking work myself , and now am a night dispatcher . Can't get it out of my system . At least it's quiet here , and I can blog and surf and fool around in forums all night .
Keep 'em coming...and tell the little gnomes with comments to STFU!
Honey, why do you care what total strangers who have internet access think about you or your writing or PRESUME to know a damn thing about you from a handful of posts? Toughen up, sugar, it'll only get worse.
btw, the thought of riding in a car/truck where someone had blown his head off is disgusting to say the least.
Ahhhh, another Ron yarn. Can't wait. But any chance I can get the clef notes version just in case the puter goes belly up.
ok...first off...if ya hadn't been decent at your music...you wouldn't have had the gigs that ya did...and if you weren't decent looking you wouldn't have had the hilarious escapades with the batshit crazy women ya did...so grow a skin and tell the lil' fuckin' trolls to fuck off...
Now i know of a Carl's Corner but it wasn't in your neck of the woods..this one was in Texas and burnt to the ground a few years ago, and they rebuilt it...but it was notorious for nefarious happenings back in the day...lol.
As far as the SILFH?...nawwww...aint gonna comment on that, other than to say i understand ya wanting your "Younto" room back, and that your Loverly Lady is probably keeping an eye and ear on ya, to determine how far to let this go...but it is kinna hard being that your SILFH, IS her sister, yanno?
You keep writing...I'll keep reading.
Thanks guys. No GS..no clif notes!
Imp...I may have sounded a little thin skinned but mostly, idiots just torque my ass.
This particular Carl's was a hell hole as well!
As for the SIL...it's gonna be ok....Michelle told me just now that she was gonna start looking for another place for her sister to live cause she's tired of her already!
Thanks ya'll.
Ron, read this shit, laugh like hell and then delete it. We're all here lovin' this stuff, what do you care what some anonymous asshole thinks? They're just baiting you. You just keep writing for us loyal groupies........
Thanks Rocky...will do.
You are TOO COOL. I like your style darlin'.
Thanks darlin'.
I'll be posting later on.
Ron, I just recently found you and I have enjoyed your tales immensely. You have a wonderful writing style. Music isn't the only thing you are talented at. Don't give a shit what those trolls say. Keep doin' it for YOU (and us!!).
Well thank you Hunter....will do.
First of all... we blog because we have a story to tell. We have a story to tell because WE LIVED LIFE. Bah. Fuck em' Ron. WE WANT MORE! :-)
As for Vince's truck incident.... EWWWWWWWWWWW That gives me the willies! (and not the "willie the one-eyed wonder weasel" kind of willies... nope. the ewwwwwww bad kind) But I was LAUGHING! I've never been one to laugh at the death of another person, but wow... with an outcome like that, how can you not laugh?
You've got that right girl!
Thanks.
At the risk of repeating sentiments from a host of people who enjoy your life experiences and live vicariously through them. . . . "Ron, you da man!_Joe
Thank you sir.
Tell the assholes sending you emails about getting over yourself to go piss up a rope. I enjoy reading your stories very much. I don't think you are acting like anything except a good old red-blooded american man. Your stories remind me of my youth. We had somewhat of the same life style and the same stomping grounds when we were younger. I especially liked the "Gretchen, The Hell's Angels and Me" story. I used to party with alot of biker's back in the day. Your story reminded me of some damn good times. Keep on writing. You are a damn good writer. I'll be here reading as long as you are here writing.
You are an amazingly gifted story teller. Since you're much more eloquent than I am, I'll just say fuck the idiots who question your writing. I'll keep coming back here and the others can go find a new place to play:)
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