Well, it’s the Fourth of July here in Big Thicket where we wear our red white and blue proudly like a drunken sailor wears his new tattoo. Anything we can buy at the dollar store that has the stars and stripes plastered on it: we got it in triplicate.
I went out early this morning to the grocery store before it closes at 2:00 so the employees can get high with their families to buy Miracle Whip and tater chips to go with my patriotic hamburgers and it did my heart good to see that we still love the country in our country. (Hmmmm, I may have some bumper stickers and t-shirts made up with that little saying. Could be a big seller in Big Thicket.)
I saw several gentlemen wearing what appears to be the unofficial uniform of the Fourth consisting of an unbuttoned blue denim work shirt with the sleeves cut out casually paired with a white tee-shirt that went just fine with their red necks. One guy’s t-shirt had a picture of a large fire cracker that said, “Bang me.” I thought to myself, “Oh your mother would be proud,” but then I saw this plump little old lady wearing red short-shorts, blue vericosed legs and a t-shirt that said, “Let’s make fireworks together!”
I wanted to go up to her and tell her that she should go meet the guy in the produce section who was thumping the watermelons, but I was afraid she’d misunderstand and I left well enough alone.
I hurried back home as soon as the pimpled face kid loaded my groceries into the car. His shirt said, “May the Fourth be with you.”
I’ll just leave it at that.
Hugs,
Happy Birthday America. You still look pretty good for a 237 year old.
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