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From the Mouth of the River

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Boots remembers his first "nekkid" woman

Swimming with the women.  This always brings up new conversation around the old heating stove at the mercantile when the men are sitting around drinking coffee and telling lies while they’re waiting on Junie to sort the mail. What with this being a long and cold winter, by February we were running out of stories that no one had heard, yet. We knew all the hunting stories and fishing stories by heart and it was inevitable that stories about women would start to surface. One has to be careful about telling these stories as this is a small town and someone near you has either married that girl or is her brother. So, telling a story that may be the least bit risqué could bring bodily harm to one’s self. A good example was when Luther saw them Ledbetter girls skinny dippin’ down at the river when he was fishin’ a few years back.

“That one older girl,” he said, “was pretty heavy set for being in the sixth grade and you could even see a large birth mark on her left hip.”

“What tha hell,” Bugger Red yelled, jumpin’ to his feet and spilling his coffee. “You seen my wife nekkid before I did?” And the fight was on.

Stories like that, folks just shouldn’t tell publicly around a small town. I, on the other hand, not being raised in Chipmunk Falls, had pretty much free range to talk about my wild escapades with women as a young man. Living here for over thirty years I was still considered “the new guy.” I don’t think half of the people I talk to on a daily basis even know my real name. I’m just, “the new guy.”

“I remember my first nude woman like it was yesterday,” I said, with a distant look in my eyes. Everyone turned their undivided attention to me.

After a moment of dead silence, Chainsaw said, “Well, are ya gonna tell us about it or do we haft’a beat it outta ya? Who was she? Was it anyone we know?”

“Of course not,” I explained. “It was a long time ago. I was just a big old ugly boy back then. I had heard a lot about women from the honky tonks and bars my Dad usta’ hang out in. And then there was all that useless information I received out back of the wood shop at school. That’s where all the older boys hung out, smoked cigarettes and lied to us younger kids about their sexual escapades. We heard what it was like, who they were with when they first got a French kiss and verbal instructions on how to unhook a bra, etc. They finely got sex education in our schools by combining it with drivers ed. The back seat was where most of that education was learned anyway and a lot of it was at the drive-in theater. But that was a long time after I left school.”

“Would you get ta’ the part where you seen that necked woman, and who it was?” Chainsaw demanded.

  “Well, It was about 1950, or somewhere in there,” I continued, “and a fellar named Hugh Hefner came out with a magazine he called PLAYBOY. Right there in tha middle of it was a picture of a nude woman in full color. He even gave her name. It was Marilyn Monroe. I’ll never forget it. Mr. Hefner said he was going to put pictures of nude women in every magazine and they would be in classic and artful displays. None of those off color poses. These were going to be women just like the girls next door. Now, I gotta tell ya, I have lived all over this country and I have never seen a girl next door or even one in our part of town that looked like them gals he took pictures of!

Later on Marilyn Monroe went to Korea for the U.S.O. to show the U.S. Marines what they were fighting for. She stood there on that makeshift stage in that little black dress and declared. “You’re the most underpaid, underfed, oversexed bunch of professional killers I’ve ever seen.” The jarheads went wild. The guards had to use live ammo just to keep them off the stage.”

  “Well,” Scooter said. “We had a wilder event than that right here in Chipmunk Falls. Remember when the boys over at the volunteer fire department decided to give Junior that surprise bachelor party? They took up a collection and gave Mrs. Shagnasty, the English teacher, fifty-three dollars to slide down their brass pole in her underpants as a surprise for Junior.”

“Was he surprised?” I asked.

“Boy, I’ll say,” Scooter said. “For one thing, Mrs. Shagnasty was seventy-four years old and they had to get her drunk before she would do it. Have you ever seen a seventy-four-year-old, overweight woman in a pair of bloomers descend down a brass pole at you? Boy, ole Junior was surprised all right. He was so surprised he even called off his wedding. We didn’t find out until later that she was his fiance’s grandmother!”


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Boots Reynolds Boots Reynolds The "internationally-renowned cowboy artist" Boots Reynolds has moved his comedic interpretation of life into the writing field with his regular column in the River Journal - From the Mouth of the River.

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