Delilah had stepped into Al’ Village Pizza and local watering puddle…with only one quota needing to be filled.
‘Why was it the VFW and hound dog Ralph…why was it possible for this tomfoolery to continue on with Red Bull Ralph’s daily barrage of…I fought at the Hill’s of (forgiegh land). I picked those little sand buggers off like a slug to week old dog shit left out in a corn field covered with maple syrup and gum drops from the five and dime. And, ya’ tellin’ meh…ya’ don’t get it!’
For the life of her and for all the wrong turns made right…Big D could not wrap her Natty Daddy sponge like qualities, dead head mind around…
Veteran’s of Foreign Wars!
‘Cept for the big one. ‘Cepting that battle to top all battles…Ye’ old Battle of Bunker Hill…all other wars had been fought on foreign soil! So, than, what gives with all them other bars. The Eagles, the Moose, the Grand Poo Bar…all those fools with good down home intentions…should git ta-gether and make one big drunk den!
So it has come to be, now, that Big D, found herself and her one sore thumb and her one bum right buttocks from too many spankings…standing across the street from Franklin’s one and only ‘reel’ bar…the VFW!
Da’ boys had gotten mad, ya’ see. Down right honoree ’bout Big D’s insistence that no one should be going ’round and braggin’ ’bout fighting here and there and parts of New Jersey! As far as, she was concerned…they were all veterans of foreign wars and dat Mt. Rushmore had been some freak of Mother Nature monstrosity…built on the anger of the elements…alone. There had been no reel truth in some fool goin’ up there to Vegas and carving out those pudding pie faces with gnarly hair styles!
Big D didn’t care though. The boys would get to puttin’ back some J.D. And toking on some of dat
ma-de-cinal…mariwanna! Than the old peg legs, the sawed off by too much Vietnamese action, third legs…would get to itchin’. Would git to wanting a good scratching. Than, Ralph and his band of merry but not ferry, men would come a lookin’. And, just possibly Big D would put that there dead thumbing thumb…way out. She’d htich her way out of this god forsaken town of vacant vagabond veterans. She’d hitch her all the way to London. London Bridge, that is. She’d git herself out there to Airyzona and prove to those redneck snowman just how to treat a lady of the day!