Friday, March 25, 2005

If Latigo Flint Had Been There

If Latigo Flint had been there in that Don McLean song, American Pie, you dern well better believe that marching band would have yielded.

The players would have been all running out of the locker room grunting and slapping each other on helmet and butt, hollering things like: "Herewegonow, herewego!!!" and "Not in our house, kitten, not today!!!"

But then the marching band would have been all like: "Sorry guys, we've got a couple more sets." The players would have been all: "WHAT? HEY! NO! You little lames git going!" And the band is all: "Look, all these people got up to dance, and by golly they're going to get a chance." And the players are all like: "GRRRRRRR!!!" And the band waves dismissive hands: "Sorry, wait your turn."

Then the ominous sound of spurred boots on concrete cuts through the din. Fifty thousand heads turn and behold Latigo Flint striding up the dimly lit tunnel. It takes about three seconds for the entire stadium to fall completely silent. Latigo Flint passes under the goalposts and crosses the end zone, painted grass crunching softly underfoot. The players part down the middle and when the drum major gets his first good look at what stalks him through a canyon of jerseys and facemasks, he blanches and drops his tasseled staff.

There are squinty-eyes and then there are squinty-eyes. A clump of petulant teen girls gives squinty-eyes to the pretty new girl when she passes their table -- That drum major stared into Latigo Flint's squinty-eyes and could physically taste bloody dirt, bitten reflexively by dying jaws.

"I believe these fellers have a game to play."

"W-w-we were just leaving."

"Your flute and piccolo section use too much sweet perfume. The halftime air is thick with it."

"I-I-I'll talk to them ab-ab-about that."

"Much obliged."

Latigo Flint stares down and to the side. It's clear this conversation over and the subtle implication--when Latigo Flint chooses to look up again, he'd better see only grass and painted hashmarks. Eighty musicians have never run so fast before or since.

Quarterback chortles and goes to slap Latigo Flint on the back. "Yo buddy tha-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The QB freezes, puzzled, wary. "I'm not your buddy. It's just that everyone agreed to a structure in which after a 30 minute pause, the game resumes. They were trying to violate that agreement. I made sure they didn't."

Fifty thousand breaths of relief when Latigo Flint finally disappears into the tunnel gloom serve to restart the stadium's engine. The ref hands the ball to the kicker and nervously blows his whistle.

Two hundred feet up in section G6 a pretty young woman turns to her male companion. "Ummm, remember what I told you last night when we kicked off our shoes and danced in the gym? Well, I lied!" And with that she stands and sprints toward the stadium exit closest to the tunnel through which Latigo Flint vanished.



(You know, like, presumably to fellate him and stuff.)

10 Comments:

At 3:27 PM, Anonymous Old Horsetail Snake said...

Was that tootler tootling regular flute, or skin flute? A guy with your steely-eyed glint probably seen what was which.

 
At 6:03 PM, Blogger okstatendn said...

Is the squint fierce enough to menace that plan back into the sky?

 
At 10:06 AM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

Mr. Flint. Like to invite you to come visit my site. My stories aren't necessarily true, like yours, but they got a down-home feel.

 
At 2:36 PM, Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

Thanks for the explanation. About the fellatio, I mean.

 
At 10:45 AM, Blogger Tommy said...

If Mr. Flint wasn't such an honerable man I'd ask him to send that lass this way once he's done. I could use a good fellatin' about now.

 
At 3:46 PM, Blogger Blog ho said...

The clacking spurs. that was a movie vision for me. I kinda wished he would have killed the QB, though. Band mambers get kinda pushed around and it made me sad that Latigo also pushes around the band.

 
At 8:49 PM, Blogger Velvet Marauder said...

That post touched me deep inside.

 
At 9:58 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Several of the lady-folk bloggers have taken to daydreaming about Latigo Flint wearing his 6-guns, holsters and hat -- and not a damn thing else!

 
At 12:46 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

My friends, it would seem these days you need serious squinty-eyed persistence and grim determination just to leave a dern comment. Your gumption moves me.

The song ended before I could ascertain Old Hoss.

Those damn planes keep taking our great ones don't they OK? It's enough to bring a tear to the fiercest squinty-eye. (Do you think Waylon Jennings kept the coin?)

Well thank you, I might just light and set for a spell old hoss.

No harm in clarifying right Cindy-Lou?

I am honored that you have recognized how honorable Latigo Flint is Tommy.

There is a great capacity for cruelty in this town Ho...

Kinda made you want to sing dirges in the dark, did it Velvet? Well me too.

LBB: Tito's Margarita Cantina on 6th & Western, 3rd Friday of every month. (2 drink min. Free admission for bride-2-b plus 1 maid of honor.)

 
At 12:47 PM, Blogger roundelay said...

On behalf of the piccolo section, I just want to say it's not us, it's the alto saxaphones. We may look a little slutty, but those girls are all about the perfume.

 

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