I do write something beside westerns occasionally, usually caused by the course in writing I'm taking from the Bishop Literary Service of nearby Youngtown, AZ, like this short piece.
Some people are addicted to the TV, turn it on the minute they hit the door, but never concentrate fully on it with other things going on.
THE TV AND THEM
Every time we visit my friend and his wife, the TV is blasting away, not at a reasonable volume but loud enough that it makes it difficult to carry on a conversation. The TV is playing sports, music or military programs, and once in a great while a history presentation, but seldom the news. In fact, I've never seen the News on in there house.
But, anyway, we were invited over last Friday night (my wife and I) for a get-together and a sandwich of some kind, and they were "watching" the Army training the Green Berets. The lady of the house tunes these programs out mostly, and it's primarily her husband's program.
I asked the barbecue-er what he was cooking tonight, and he replied, "Army burgers. You ever had one?"
"Probably, but not by that name. What the heck are Army burgers?" I asked.
He was intent on watching some soldiers jump over obstacles and didn't hear me.
"Jim!" yelled his wife. "Switch the station to some nice music for a change. Don't you get tired watching those GI's all the time?"
"What are Army burgers?" I asked again, after he changed stations.
"That's the way we cooked thim in the Army. A donkey, some sputterbutt, and two pieces of a bag-it."
His wife interrupted to tell him that, "They're singing our song. Wama-wama-wamoo-oo," she sang.
And he joined in with her and so did my wife. I just shook my head.
And so went the night, but he did get around to telling me about the Army burgers later, when they were watching the infrequent historical piece about the Egyptian pyramids.
He said, "They look similar to the base of one of those pyramids and are about as heavy, too. They throw on the grill some donkey (patties), squirt the barbecue juice, and catsup, mustard stuff (sputterbutt) on the patties, and shovel it in between two pieces of bag-it (buns). It's mighty tasty. If we hadn't have had cork-du-soley tonight, you could have tasted them.
We went home with me wondering what the hell cork-du-soley was, even though I had eaten some of it. His wife probably watched one of them French cooking programs.