Notes in the key of C

   I did it!!!  The BIG prize! I picked the right numbers, beat the odds and won the big prize.  I’m not even sure how much it’ll be after Uncle Sam trims off his share of the winnings but it’ll be in the MILLIONS.  Whoooo! Hoooooo! My life has been changed forever!

    Let’s see. I’m quitting this nine-to-six job first of all.  Instant retirement! No goodbye, no two weeks notice.  Hasta luego!  We’re outa here. Oh, oh. There goes my elgibility for re-hire.  Ha! Ha! Ha!  Who cares? I’ll pay off all the bills, sell the house, and we’re gettin’ the hell outa town.  I’m going to make a huge donation to the local university’s athletic scholarship fund, spread some of the wealth to family and friends and go shopping for that “land yacht” so we can cruise, coast to coast  in style and never have to worry about when we come back.  And the cost of gas? Who cares if it’s five dollars a gallon. I don’t. Not anymore. That’s peanuts, as far as I’m concerned. It’s Easy Street from this day forward.

     Persistence has paid off again.  Play the same numbers.  Keep the faith. Don’t give up. And then…..BANG!!…when you least expect it….it happens.  All the numbers match and life’s path is instantly re-directed. I must keep our name out of the paper.  Low profile.  Take the phone off the hook. Leave town for a couple of weeks and don’t tell anyone where we’re going.  Our mailbox will be full of letters from “charitable organizations”seeking a donation, lawyers, and investment experts offering their services.  They’ll be knocking on our door at all hours of the day and night, people with their sad stories and outstretched palms, wanting just a little piece of the “pie”.  Waaaaaaah!  Cry me a river! Go get a job!

     So many different thoughts swirling around in my head and in the background, I hear the soft sound of whimpering that I’m trying to ignore. More plans to be made. Do I keep the Jeep or trade it for that Hummer3 or Porsche Boxster? Maybe I’ll get both of them! Hawaii!  We’re taking an extended vacation in the “Islands”.  A month, maybe two. More whimpering coming from somewhere and it’s getting a little bit louder.  There’s things to do before we slip out of town.  Gotta organize my thoughts. Too may decisions to make at one time.

     The whimpering turns to barking……….and…..just THAT FAST……it’s all gone.  The winning lotto ticket,……the millions……the land yacht, the Porsche Boxster, the Hummer, the early retirement,….all of it.  And all because that damn dog had to go out, at THREE THIRTY in the friggin’ morning, snatching me out of a deep sleep and taking ALL of it away in an instant. Damn!!  All that cash…gone in a flash!  Beautiful dream…….rude awakening!

    I took my bike out for a spin down to the “river” (it was about 94 degrees out so WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?), stopped to get a drink when I got there and,…. there HE was, at the RIVERPARK concession stand, leaning into a microphone and clutching a black acoustic guitar.  No back up band, no rhinestone-studded jumpsuit, and no big beer belly (must have called Jenny Craig),.  I swear!  Oh, sure, he looked a little different. After all, he’s alot older than he was back then when he supposedly died. But it was unmistakeable; the jet black hair (with a couple shades of gray added in on the sides) and the long sideburns. Dark sunglasses as an apparent disguise with a lot less shaking, a helluva lot of rattling and some hip rolling thrown in, he was doing songs I’d never heard before. What was even more amazing was that he was actually playing that guitar!

Nobody even told me he was coming to town, so he must have been passing through from Memphis on his way to a gig in Vegas.  At the end of each song the audience just went wild, clapping, whistling and cheering just like days gone by… all ten of them. Small crowd, but very enthusiastic.  A man, his guitar and a passion for good ol’ rock and roll.  I thought to myself, “Man…….I CAN’T go up there and try to get an autograph from him.  Then, everyone will know who he is.” So, I got a drink at the water fountain, got back on my bike and headed down the trail. Wow! Talk about being in the right place at the right time!!

    Man, ….ELVIS…..it must have been him. No?? Maybe it was an Elvis impersonator.  Or maybe, it was just the heat of the day roasting my brain and overstimulating my imagination!!!!  Well, anyway,  it that wasn’t Elvis, he was still pretty damn good.  And the real Elvis really couldn’t play the guitar anyway.  I’m just going to have to stay inside when it gets THAT HOT!!

    Almost everyone likes chocolate chip cookies, wouldn’t you say?  So how do I turn a story entitled “The Chocolate Chip Cookie” into something totally disgusting? Well,….it goes something like this…..

    Years ago, I was making a delivery to one of my regular customers out of town.  They invited me in and as I stepped through the front door,  Mrs. “E” ’s husband happened to be baking some chocolate chip cookies.  Ahhhhhh, that aroma was so intoxicating. Long story short,…….I left the house with about a half dozen bite-sized cookies, fresh off the cookie sheet, still very warm in a ziplock bag.

    Driving away, I started popping them in my mouth, one at a time.  I think I had probably polished off about three and was working on the fourth one, except this one seemed extra chewy.  I kept on chewing awhile longer until only a small section of it was left. Unable to break it down with saliva,  I finally took it out to see what was up with this one.  Well, what I had left was neither cookie nor was it a chewy chocolate chip.  Instead, it was a USED BAND AID!!!!! Bleeeeccccck!!! Puuuuuuuuke! All of a sudden, those other two cookies didn’t look so tempting and I thought that right about then he was back at the house probably noticing that band aid that he had on his finger was missing. Yes, I’d been chewing on it. The rest of the cookies went out the window, I DIDN’T get sick from it, but I haven’t eaten a chocolate chip cookie since that day.  True story!…..DISGUSTING, but true.