Jayherdin' Ain't Healthy
Posted Thursday, January 31, 2019 12:21 PM

 

Jayherdin’ Ain’t Healthy!

Cynthia and Laura claimed seats next to each other at the rodeo. Tammy and Brigitte sat in the seats in front of them, their mates alongside in customary American matrimonial fashion. The teens sat behind them, involved in their own conversations. “Ain’t y’all ever wondered why there ain’t no piano in th’ marchin’ band?” Beth asked.

“Ain’t mommin’ fun, Sugah?” Cynthia wondered.

“'Mommin', Cynthia? Is that Texican for the art of being a mother?”

“More like th' job o’ bein' a mother, Laura, like cowboyin' is th' job o’ bein' a cowhand?”

“I see. Yes, I agree that Mommin' is fun, Girlfriend. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinkin' about how much I love my kids.”

“Well, I swan! You haven't mentioned them for at least an hour.”

“You know I don't like to brag, Sugah.”

“Yeah, I've noticed that.”

“That was sarcastic, Sugah,” Cynthia pouted, raising a fault-finding eyebrow. “It ain’t braggin’ when you’re talkin’ about your kids. I believe that was your teenage son playin' lead guitar in th’ rodeo band yeste’day, Sugah.”

“Trained as a Jazz Guitarist but played Country Music without a hitch!”

“Now, don't you brag, Sugah!”

“Oh, I wouldn't. Who was that lovely blonde playing fiddle?”

“That was my beautiful, daughter,” said Hank. “All Around Cowgirl!”

“Braggin’ ain't polite, Honey.”

“Oh! I wouldn't brag,” said Hank. “Jus’ sayin’ what’s so.”

“Y'all comin' t’ supper at th’ house this evenin', Sugah?”

“What're y'all having, Girlfriend?”

“Road kill.”

“What got killed?”

“A buffalo.”

“You're telling me a bison was killed on the highway? In Oklahoma? In 2016? Ten bucks a pound at Reasor's sounds more likely.”

“I ain’t kiddin’, Sugah! A semi hit him out on Highway 75. It was th' buffalo's fault but he caused a really messy accident.”

“Did the buffalo get a ticket for Jayherding, Girlfriend?”

“Cute, Sugah! He was too dead to show his Jayherdin' License, but that bison got turned into instant steaks! Well, Jeff over at Reasor's tidied up the job with a butcher knife and a meat cleaver.”

“That would’ve been my first guess. What made the accident so messy, Girlfriend?” Laura asked, chomping her teeth in the air like a big-mouthed bass striking a lure.

“Th' truck rolled and spilled its load all over th' highway, Sugah!”

“Oh my gosh! What was he hauling?”

“Thirty thousand pounds of bananas.”

Laura laughed out loud. “That driver's name had to be Harry!”

“How'd you know that, Sugah?”

“I was juuuust guessing, Girlfriend. Juuust guessing.  Wahahahahah!”

“I thought you mighta seen th' wreck on Channel Six last night, Sugah. Tess was ‘On th’ Scene; On th’ Story.’ She interviewed me and Harry. Didn’t you see us?”

“Missed the news. Tess was noodlin’ at the river yesterday, got two thirty-pounders. She posted pictures on her Facebook page.”

Cynthia leaned closer to Laura and whispered, “I promise not to tell any Grammar Nazis, Sugah, (yourself excepted, o’ course) but I think you just elided the 'g' in ‘noodlinGgg’.”

“Is there a 'g' in noodlin', Cynthia? I've never heard it pronounced with one.”

“Hm. Y'know, you could be right. Is there an English equivalent? Th’ word might only exist in Okie. Prob’ly ain’t got no ‘g’. Well, anyway, Tess and her camera man had been noodlin'.”

“Charlie was noodlin'?”

“Nah, Charlie don’t noodle,” Cynthia said with impatience. “He was shootin' pictures of Tess for her Facebook page while she noodled.”

“That sounds right. How'd they end up at the wreck?” Laura chomped the air like a trout striking a minnow in a cool mountain stream.

“They weren't far away. News on Six called and assigned 'em to cover th' accident. Her hair was still drippin' Arkansas river water when they got t’ th' scene, but she was gorgeous!”

“No doubt! I'll bet her makeup was perfect.”

“Yep. She was wearin' a “Newson6.com” polo shirt like a minidress. (Heels o’ course. Gal’s got some legs!) She'd just noodled them thirty-pound catfish. Had ‘em in th' bed of her pickup at th' news scene when a Braums truck loaded with ice cream and chocolate syrup spun out on th’ bananas and plowed into th' mess backwards!

“Th’ back doors o’ th’ Braum’s truck sprung open and dumped th’ load in th’ middle o’ th’ bananas! Charlie got th' whole thing on video, explodin' bananas, ice cream missiles, flyin' buffalo, wi’ Tess reportin’ all professional in front of it. Totaled Tess' pickup. No injuries, 'cept'n th' buff’lo, o’ course. A Vet pronounced him ‘meat’ at the scene.”

“A veterinarian was there?” Laura was surprised at the coincidence.

“Nah, a Vietnam vet. It didn’t take much expertise.”

“Of course,” understood Laura. “How'd y'all get involved”

“Coincidence. Hank and I were waitin' to turn on Jenks Road when it happen. Helped clean up th’ wreck. Hauled off th’ buffalo, bananas and ice cream for ‘em.”

“How did y’all get the buffalo into Hank’s truck?” Laura didn’t bother to bite the air, fully expecting a simple explanation.

“Coach Trimbel stopped th’ Activities Bus to lend a hand. Th’ Trojan Defensive Line, grabbed handfuls of fur and pitched him in.

“I see. Charlie should be nominated for a Pulitzer in the ‘Breaking (so to speak) News’ category.”

“Or, at least be invited t’ supper.”

“Uh, huh. I take it you're planning Oklahoma Surf n' Turf, with banana splits for dessert, Girlfriend?”

“Exactly! Hey! That's a good name, Sugah! I like ‘Oklahoma Surf and Turf’! Special name for a special meal in honor of th' last day o’ the rodeo. Gotta do somethin' out o’ the ordinary.”

“As if you might sometime do something within the ordinary, Girlfriend. We'll be there. Have you told the kids?”

“Hey, Kids!” Cynthia shouted over her shoulder. “Supper'll be at th' house after th' rodeo!”

“What're we havin'?” Beth asked.

“Road kill,” Laura answered.

“Mmmm, boy! My favorite!” Monahseetah said with a pleased expression. “I’ll bring my guitar and sing, ‘Home on the Rez!”

“Speakin’ o’ that guitar, Sugah, th’ band’s tunin’ up,” said Beth. “We need t’ get over there if we want another hundred bucks.”

 

“Could y'all have supper with us after the rodeo?”  Mark asked.

“We're already committed to dinner at the Morgan’s house, Mark. Is there a special reason?” Wes asked.

“Yep, the band's leavin' for Nashville right after the rodeo t’ cut our first album and play at the Grand Ole Opry next Saturday night. You, Elizabeth, and Monahseetah need t’ go with us.”

“Nashville?” said Beth. “I can cotton t’ that!”

Monahseetah stared at Mark with her mouth agape, her mind separating his remarks into phrases she could deal with. [Nashville? Album? Grand Ole Opry? She was wrong. She couldn’t deal with it.] Wes had nothing to say. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a number. Laura's cell phone rang.  “Hi, Wes!”

“Uh, Hi Mom, would it cause any trouble if Beth, Monahseetah and I were to miss dinner this evening?”

“Why would y'all want to miss Oklahoma Surf n’ Turf, Wes?”

“Uh, Mark wants to talk to us (gulp) about going to Nashville to cut a record and to play at the Grand Old Opera on Saturday Night.”

“That's 'Grand Ole Opry,' Wes.”

“Mom, must you be a grammar Nazi in all languages?”

“I'll ask your father, Darling.”

“If you have to …?”

“Put your phone on 'Speaker', Wes. Mary, you need to come closer and listen to this conversation. It has remarkable potential.”

“Darling, Wes is asking if the kids can miss dinner tonight. The rodeo band wants them to go to Nashville to cut a record and play the Opry.”

“Has anyone ever suggested you have a knack for asking unexpected questions, Sweetheart? The Grand Ole Opry???”

“Yes, Darling. Your son has the same talent. The question surprised me.”

“If they're needin’ t’ talk that kinda b'iness, their lawyer oughtta be present,” advised Hank. “Not t’ mention their parents.”

“Are you their lawyer?” asked Laura.

“Of course,” Hank assured her. “I'm free, and (I might point out) one of Beth’s parents.”

“Of course,” Laura repeated. “Wes, Mr. Morgan says you should have your lawy….”

“Mark, my mom says ...”

“Yeah. Can we ask him some questions about copyright laws?”

“He says y'all can ask him anything, Mark,” Laura answered.

Pro bono,” added Hank.

“What's that mean, Mr. Morgan?” Wes asked.

For the common good,” translated Raul.

Laura rolled her eyes. “It means ‘free’, Wes.”

“How about th’ band comes t’ dinner at th’ house tonight?” asked Cynthia. “How many people?”

“Twelve,” answered Mark.

[That'll make about thirty.] “We got enough to feed ever'body.”

“What are we havin'?” Mark asked.

“Road kill!” answered Monahseetah, enthusiastically.

 

“I'm pretty sure this is not really road kill!” Monahseetah declared as she forked another combined bite of catfish and bison into her mouth. “How could a catfish get hit by a car?” she garbled doubtfully.

“There were two catfish, Sugah, and they were in the pickup when th’ second accident happened,” pouted Cynthia. “There's a story that 'splains ever'thang, Monahseeetah.”

“Trust me, Monahseetah, you don't want to hear that story.”

“Why not, Mrs. Alura? Mom tells good stories!” H.J. said faithfully.

“Why don't you believe me, Sugah? It's true!”

“It’s not that! I worry it isn’t healthy to laugh that hard.”

“I told you a creative rendition of an unusual event,” insisted Cynthia.

“You did?” Laura looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Now, don't you be a subductisupercilicarptor, Sugah! It ain't polite!”

“I wouldn't want to be impolite! What does 'sub...’ whatever mean?”

“Cynthia used the word ‘Subductisupercilicarptor', Sweetheart, the longest word in the Latin language,” said Raul. “It's from an Aulus Gellius' collection named Attic Nights. He didn’t write in an attic, Sweetheart, but in the city of Attica. Gellius coined a compound word meaning 'an ultracritical person', or directly translated, 'an eyebrow-raising fault-finder’.”

Laura and Cynthia looked at him with stunned expressions.

“One of Gellius' points was that it was an impolite act,” Raul concluded.

“Darling, how can you know that off the top of your head?”

“How, indeed!” said Cynthia, whispering, “Uh, …he's right, Sugah!”

“I wrote a term paper on Gellius for a Roman Literature class in college,” Raul shrugged. “I included Attic Nights in my research.”

“I'm sure you got an 'A,' Darling. Okay, I'll leave Roman Things to the Latin teacher and the man who forgets nothing,” said Laura.

“How would you say subductisupercilicarptor in Cheyenne, Mr. Alura?” asked Monahseetah, confident that Raul would know the translation and her need to use the word would surely come at any moment.

“That’d take research, Monahseetah. [Might be able to coin it by direct translation of the roots… Hmmm…] I’m sure the Cheyenne word would be at least half-a-page long, with a bunch of o's, a's, and an unreasonable number of apostrophes.” He smiled at the thought. Monahseetah grinned impishly and carved another catfish/bison bite.

“Okay, Girlfriend, I give up,” said Laura snickering between words, “tell us how it all happened.” She was careful not to roll her eyes nor raise a fault-finding eyebrow. She did, however, giggle into her palm.

“You see, Monahseetah,” began Cynthia, “a buff'lo was crossin' Highway 75, mindin' his own cotton-pickin’ b'iness, mind you, north o' Glenpool, when an eighteen-wheeler, loaded with thirty thousand pounds of bananas, driven by Harry...”

All ears were open in wide-eyed attention.

“An’ that’s th’ reason Laura named this meal Oklahoma Surf n Turf.”

“Well, uh, I see, uh, a Braums truck, huh? 30,000…? Okay,” agreed Montahseeta. “This is the most delicious road kill I’ve ever eaten!”

“I surely enjoyed this road kill!” remarked Tess, as Hank served a banana split (her favorite dessert) made to order. “Thanks, Hank, and thanks for invitin' us, Cynthia.”

“You're welcome, Tess,” said Cynthia. “Tibi placet cadaverina, Harry?”

“Erat deliciosum, Cynthia! Gratias!” said the semi-truck driver.

“Y Usted, Jose?”

“Muy agradable, gracias!” said Jose, the Braum’s truck driver.

“Let me get some shots o’ y'all eatin' them banana splits,” said Charlie. “It’ll make a great Facebook series! Y'all smile big, now!”

“Daddy tells me to deliver a new pickup t’ Tess, and I get fed Five Star Road Kill!” marveled Kristin from Jim Glover Chevrolet. Her knife and fork busy, she aimed a lovely smile at Charlie’s camera.