Princess of Irony

My best impression of Kevin Costner in Dances With Wolves.

Issue Date: Wednesday, Jun. 28, 2006

Currently listening to Herschel* and thinking of all the stupid things I have done in my short and quite unremarkable history. This week has been filled with things that make me all reflective. Along with what I reported yesterday one of my coworkers lost her daughter last night. I feel like I am grasping at time and I am aware of not being able to tell those I love, that I love them enough.

This one story keeps circling the drain. I keep coming back to it while thinking about how lucky and watched over I have been. There have been nights when I have gotten in a car or truck to head home or to go on a road trip or something of the sort only to kind of shake myself from my reverie or my mental lapse halfway there; even worse� once I got to my destination and not remember the trip. Sometimes alcohol was involved, sometimes it was just exhaustion. I am just amazed that I even survived my twenties.

Let me lay down some facts that may or may not help you understand the strangeness of this story.
1) I was still in school and very young and stupid.
2) I knew G (at the time a Sheriff�s Deputy) for about a year before I knew he even had a brother.
3) I ended up marrying his brother.
4) Debra Jean (DJ) ended up marrying G.
5) The whole clan of them G, his parents and X lived on approx. 650 acres outside of the small college town that I lived in. In-laws lived on the west side� X lived in the middle and G lived on the east.

There was a crew of us that hung out in college. You guys have seen the pictures. A bunch of young scrawny kids grinning from ear to ear. Several of those that hung out with the crew were local. One was a lady who worked at the bar** we frequented, her name was Kelly. I loved Kelly. She was a little bit older than we were and she had previously been a teacher. She introduced me to Bonnie Raitt, Mulberry Wine lipstick and Bunko.

Kelly also lived with a singer/hairdresser that was an absolute knockout. The singer/hairdresser/Kelly�s roommate was named Debbie. She could sing �Desperado� like nobody�s business with a beautiful strong alto and a bit of rasp. Debbie was fond of having margarita and fajita parties and she had recently divorced the owner of the club where she sang onstage and where Kelly worked as the floor manager.

It was all so scandalous.

Late in the night after the bar would close many of us would make our way to the Hot Biscuit. It was a greasy spoon with the best French fries and a smoking section. This is where we met the local law enforcement, firemen and the ambulance drivers. They would come in at the end of the shift or to just break up the monotony of a long night on duty.

As I mentioned above, G was a Sheriff�s Deputy. He also happened to have land� land in those parts usually meant one of three things; chickens (gah.), cattle or horses. G had horses. I love horses.

The crew would sometimes head out to G�s house after the bar and the Hot Biscuit and saddle up a few horses and head out in the moonlight for a long ride. We would head north on the dirt road, when that dead ended into another we would turn east and then wind our way to the top of this small mountain. There was a clearing at the top of the mountain where a small house and an even smaller cemetery had been. Both were ravaged by the weather and the only company we had up there was the moon, the horses, a couple of grazing cows and each other.

If I was riding Hambone�s (a friend of G�s that boarded his horse at his house) horse, RC, I would feel comfortable enough to go bareback, coax him into a gallop, drop the reins and do my best impression of Kevin Costner in Dances With Wolves where he rides with his arms outstretched before a line of gunmen. The wind would rush by, my hair streaming out behind me, the moon so bright in the dark blue sky, the smell of pine in the cool air, eyes closed and a trusted horse beneath me.

I lived for moments like that.

Well moments like that and spin contests on the dance floor of the bar with Walt McG.

One night G was actually off duty so he came to the bar. He, Kelly and I decided to go riding after we left. It was pretty late but we headed out to G�s house, saddled the horses and just headed off. I was riding a big roan horse named applicably enough, Roan. Kelly was on a big rust colored quarter horse named Bo and G was riding a smaller quarter horse named Poco.

We left his circular dirt driveway and followed G across the �road� to another piece of property that G�s family used to own. I use quotations with �road� because it was a very dusty dirt road with sand taking it over and six foot walls of red clay on either side of it in some parts.

We entered the property to the south of G�s roping arena. We couldn�t cross anywhere else unless we went all the way up to the driveway of the little house that was set back from the road about 30 yards. There were walls of clay up to six feet and a fence that was broken in places. Across from the roping arena was a break in the clay wall that surrounded the dirt road and a fence opening. The three of us set off to ride around a small pond that was located further east on the property. He pointed out the little house in the distance by referencing the booger light and said that we would ride over there in a bit.

If you are wondering what a booger light is� it is basically a street light that most people in the country put up where the electricity enters their property. A telephone pole with a bright light on the top. Why is it called a booger light? No clue. I haven�t passed that redneck test yet.

We rode around the pond and then headed out to the pasture that was south of the house that G had pointed out. We were sitting there at like 3 a.m. on horses after we had spent a night at the bar. It was dark as hell because there was some cloud cover.

We chatted for a few minutes and then G goes, �Race ya�ll to the light!�

He took off but Kelly and I quickly overtook him with our larger, faster horses. Kelly cut to the left and headed to the light, I figured I could go straight and cut across the yard of the little house. That would be the quickest way.

G was behind us cursing up a blue streak. I whispered to Roan and he picked up speed. We cut through several of the large pine trees that surrounded the house, I would neck rein him to the right, he would drop a shoulder and almost pivot. I would neck rein him left and he would cut to the left. We were going so fast that everything was a blur. And then I saw it.

The little house was surrounded by a six foot tall cyclone fence (chain link). The fence shone dully in the glow of the booger light.

If the fence would have been any shorter I wonder if I would have tried to jump it with Roan. He was a roping horse, would he jump? I am not sure. I pulled to the left HARD, shifted my weight in the saddle and Roan did an almost 90 degree turn. I let a small breath out. I thought we were safe. Roan made about two and a half long strides and then I remembered the fence and the property line that dropped off about six feet to the dirt road below. I shifted to the right and pulled on Roan to follow, he did a complete 90 degree turn to the right. I am convinced that if he was going any slower I would have fallen off.

We spotted the booger light and I slowed him down as soon as we reached it. I didn�t want to go past it as my sight had been compromised by the bright light and wouldn�t adjust quickly enough. I supposed neither would Roan�s and I had no idea what was laying beyond the circle of light we now stood under.

Kelly beat us there and G came shortly after. I was shaking so hard from the adrenaline rush and Roan was prancing around beneath me. I wanted to punch G square in the mouth. He was laughing and I was cursing him and Kelly was all, �Holy shit, did you see that? Holy shit! Holy shit, G, did you see that? Sue? Are you ok? Oh My GOD.�

G said something in his normal quiet tone and then headed east along the perimeter of the fence. I couldn�t hear him as my blood was pounding in my head and I was so jacked up on nerves and relief that Roan was so incredibly awesome.

G called out from the darkness. I couldn�t see him at all on Poco. Kelly turned Bo towards G�s voice and trotted off after him. Roan and I stayed put in the relative safety of the booger light. Then a large thud echoed out of the darkness and following shortly after, �Ow, fuck.� And then a groan.

I hollered, �Are ya�ll alright?� as Roan and I cautiously made our way to the north east corner of the fence. My eyes adjusted to the light I saw two horses, one facing due south the other facing due east. There weren�t people on them. I looked closer and Kelly and G were on the ground. Kelly looked up and said, �He broke my pussy.� And then she rolled onto her back and cursed quietly. Bo (who was facing east) nosed Kelly and Poco (who was facing south) just stood there looking stunned.

G said, �We have to get back to the house, come on� get back on Bo�� Kelly cursed G and then worked on climbing back on Bo. I asked them what happened. G said, �I hollered for ya�ll to follow me. I had stopped and turned sideways, but I didn�t realize I was just out of the range of the light. Kelly and Bo started this way� fast� and ran straight into the side of Poco� directly into my right leg.�

Kelly replied, �You fucking bastard, you broke my pussy.� �Suck it up and get back on your horse. You�ll be fine. My leg is starting to swell.� G said. �Well how do you think my princess is!? Swelling! That�s HOW!� �Did you hit the saddle horn with your privates?� �Oh Lord, yes.�

Both Kelly and G got back on their horses and we took all three of the horses back to the pasture, unsaddled them and went into the house to asses the damage. G�s leg was swelling and bruised and he and I both decided to let Kelly give us a report on how she was doing as opposed to looking at the damage ourselves. She was thankful to be wearing jeans or she swears her princess would have just fallen right off.

Please CLICK HERE for an unbelievably lifelike rendition of the above story.

*Is it just me or does Eric Clampton�s (I) Get Lost just make you want to cry?

**OH MY GOD, did I tell ya�ll that Jitterbugs burned down?

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