Sometimes you need to get out of town to find what you want. So you take a road trip.

 

However, your big city ways may be an obstacle to finding what you desire. You may have to change. How this might happen becomes clear in . . .  (Or in briefer poetic form, “Finding The Gal Of his Dreams—With Rhyme and Reason,” the poem that follows the short story.)

 

 

Finding The Gal Of His Dreams

 

     One day, he appeared out of nowhere in our small, rural Texas town. He got out of a new, black Lexus touring car, which glowed in the light of the late afternoon sun. Dressed in spiffy clothes from head to toe, he looked like a movie star. Heads turned as he meandered through our tiny business district. I wondered why he’d come here.

     He saw me standing in front of McNealy’s General Store and ambled toward me. I stared at him in awe. I couldn’t find the words to address him, so he began the conversation. And when he did, my small town upbringing turned upside down.

     “My dear chap, let me take this opportunity to introduce myself to you. My name is Tobias Augustine Barrett III, from New York City, a man of pride and passion, too.

     “And who pray tell most worthy fellow, poised in front of this fine store, might you be? One could not help notice your caring attitude for your community as your inquiring eyes perused me.”

     His fine speech caught me off guard. I may have gone to college in the city, but, in some ways, I still talk country. I stuttered as I spoke. “Uh, I’m, uh, Robert Bell, Jr., but you can call me Bobby.”

     “Well, Bobby, what is your function, the craft or endeavor in which you engage? Or, to put it in a more straightforward way, how might you earn your wage?”

     Still uncomfortable with this stranger, I stammered, “Uh, uh, I’m the town marshal.”

     Staring at me with a somewhat confused look on his face, he ran his eyes up from the tip of my toes to the top of my head and then down again. His bewildered look didn’t disappear. He spoke again in a highfalutin manner.

     “As I peruse your person, I do not see, on any part of your dress, a sign that indicates you are the law in this town on this day. This perplexes me a bit, as I have great respect for legal authority and wonder why your badge is not clearly on display.”

     I became uncomfortable with his observation. Twitching a bit, I bent my head to scan my clothes. To my surprise, I couldn’t find my badge. Dumbfounded, I muttered, “Sir, I don’t know where my badge is. Could’ve sworn I put it on this morning.” I began to tremble. I’d never behaved like this before. I’m a strong lawman, . . . not a wimp. But this elegant gentleman made me feel weak.

     He smiled. “No matter. For the moment, let us say we are in agreement. You are the town’s legal presence, the man in command. Therefore, I must ask your indulgence in listening to the proposal I put forth and please do your best to understand.”

     “Well, yeah, I’ll try. I’m a good listener. Townsfolk trust me. Been doing this job for near on twenty years. What’s this proposal you’re talking about?”

     He looked me straight in the eye. His penetrating stare unnerved me. Then, he spoke. “It has been over five years since my wife died and I have been grieving ever since. Not a day goes by that I do not shed a tear. However, it is my worst nightmare to live out my life alone, to have nobody with whom to share my hopes and dreams. This is my biggest fear.”

     “Yeah, I can understand that. I’ve never been married. Still looking. Guess I never found someone who could put up with the likes of me. I’m not a bad sort. But I’m set in my ways. I met one gal, about three years ago. Liked her a lot. Guess I’m getting a bit off track. You don’t want to hear my story, do you?”

     He ignored me and continued. “I have decided to put my grieving behind me, put my affairs in order, go out in the world, and get on with my life. I made a list of what I needed to do and each item now has been checked off in a precise manner, except one— finding a wife.”

     “Good heavens! You live in the big city. Looks like you have plenty of money. You sound smart. You dress well. You must’ve had a lot of opportunities to meet a woman who’d find her way into your heart.”

     “Yes, everything you have outlined is indeed true. I am an educated man of means who could have almost any woman within reach. But therein lies the problem. It is known by most people, and in particular, women, that I am a wealthy man, and I fear my trust they will breach.”

     “Okay, so what do you want me to do? Want me to find you a wife? I’m no matchmaker. And why here, for God’s sake? This is the middle of nowhere.”

     “That is my point, my good man. We are in the middle of nowhere, far from the big city, the place in which I live and toil. I am anonymous here and nobody knows where I come from or what I am worth. It will give me a chance at love—the opportunity to find the right girl.”

     “So, if I choose to help you, you’re going to have to change,” I said. “Your clothes, your car, and the way you talk will give you away. This town may be in the boonies and nobody here knows who you are, but we’re not stupid. It’s clear, you’re not from around here, stranger.”

     “Your points are well taken and I understand from where you are coming. Therefore, a plan of action, I must conceive. With your help and guidance, I need to become a man of these parts. I need to look and talk as if I belong to make people believe.”

     “You know, this plan of yours is a bit odd, but things can get a might boring around here. This is a challenge I think I am up to. So let’s give it a try.

     “First we’ll get rid of your car. There is a vacant barn about three miles out of town. Nobody goes there. I’ll take the car there tonight. But then your clothes? Hmm, you and I are about the same size. Since I’m in uniform most every day, I think I can part with three or four things to dress you in. You should fit in real well. But there’s a major hurdle we must address.”

     “What major hurdle? Your plan is well thought out. It sounds great. Maybe I could move in with you. I could be your long lost cousin from a small city upstate.

     “I would need a new name, something worthy of your nice town, simple, down to earth and country-like. Okay, I think I have it—simple and definitely country. How does this sound? I am now Billy-Bob Pike.”

     “Hold it! Hold it! Yeah, the name works. But you’ve missed the most important point.”

     “What point? It all makes sense. I think the name is fantastic, a work of art. It sounds like I belong—that I fit in. This is great. I knew finding this place was a major stroke of luck and I am going to enjoy being one of your kin.”

     “I hate to keep repeating myself,” I exclaimed. “But you’re still missing the most important point. It’s the way you talk. If we can’t change that, it might prove to be your undoing.”

     “Well, I do not know if such a transformation is possible, for I have spoken this way all my life and attended the best schools to learn proper speech. How do we modify what I have been doing for such a long time? I am not a youngster and am not going to be easy to teach.”

     I faced this guy who now seemed somewhat down in the dumps. His despair so obvious, it tugged at my heartstrings. “Come on, let’s put the smile back on your face,” I blurted. “I don’t know much about teaching good language, but helping you to talk the way I do—well, maybe. Let’s get started.

     First, we’ll sneak you into my place. Can’t let anybody know what’s happening. We’ll keep you there until we make you small-town presentable, with talk to match. Sound like a plan?”

     “Kind sir, you make me want to scream out in praise for the great kindness in your heart. I am ready, willing, and able to become your prize pupil, to reshape my big city ways, and to let my speech education start.”

     So my work began. I drove Billy-Bob’s car to the vacant barn down the road apiece. Then I moved him into my small house, dressed him in a down-home Texas way, and began to work on how he talked.

     In exchange for my help, old Billy-Bob gave me a hand around my place, doing some cleaning and fixing up. It pleased me to have him around.

     I kept him well hidden from the eyes of the townsfolk. Months passed. He took his speech learning to heart and things seemed to be falling into place.

     With the our community’s annual Christmas party approaching, the timing seemed right for Billy-Bob’s coming out party. This would be our biggest celebration of the year, the event at which the town’s unattached womenfolk never missed. So on that day, both Billy-Bob and I dressed in my Sunday finest, got into my marshal’s car, and drove to town.

     The streets, decorated to the hilt, sparkled. Christmas lights hung from all the trees. Plastic snowmen, with corncob pipes, stood at every corner. Townspeople, both young and old, strolled down Main Street singing, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” We parked the car and made our way to Centennial Hall for the big party.

     We entered the main entrance of the hall and checked in with a women dressed as an elf seated behind a table decorated with red, green, and gold ornaments. Nice touch, I thought. We then paraded around the spacious ballroom, stopping to greet the people of my small, but wonderful town. I introduced Billy-Bob to all the fine folks, as my cousin from Dawson, about seventy-five miles up the road.

     The time for Billy-Bob’s big test had now arrived. I turned to him and whispered, “You ready to go it alone?”

     He whispered back, “Yeah man, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

     “Okay, you’re on your own. Go meet the gal of your dreams.”

     With the music playing, “Walking in a Winter Wonderland,” Billy-Bob made his way through the room. I saw him walk up to a pretty middle-aged woman. They began to dance. Things looked good, so I decided to get on with my evening.

     I lost sight of Billy-Bob as the night wore on. The loud crowd seemed to be having a great time. Then, out of nowhere, Billy-Bob appeared, tugging a might pretty lady with him. He made his way up to me and said in his finest “country” manner, . . .

     “Cousin Bobby, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Melissa Warren, Missy Warren’s aunt from the big city of Santa Fe.”

     “Well, welcome to our fair town, Miss Warren,” I said in a warm, gentle voice.”

     Dressed in classy duds, she looked at me, smiled, and replied in a charming city way, “The pleasure to meet you is all mine, kind sir. It is my distinct honor to be invited to this magnificent Christmas ball tonight. And meeting your cousin has been the height of my evening. With his down-home Texas charm, he does enthrall and delight.
     “I have enjoyed my short time in your lovely community and, since meeting your nice cousin, I believe I will extend my stay. He is the man for whom I have been searching, a man of little pretense, open and kind, in a fine country way.”

     And so it appeared, “cousin” Billy-Bob indeed had found the “gal of his dreams.”

 

 

Copyright © 2013 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

 

 

Finding The Gal Of His Dreams—

With Rhyme And Reason

 

One day he appeared in our small, rural Texas town, drivin’ a new black Lexis tourin’ car. When he got out, dressed in spiffy clothes from head to toe, he looked like a movie star.

 

Heads turned as he moseyed down Main Street. I wondered why he’d come here. He saw me standin’ in front of McNealy’s General Store, but why he headed my way wasn’t clear.

 

As he neared, my ears started twitchin’ and my eyes began rollin’ around. I stared in awe at this fancy gentleman and tried to speak, but couldn’t utter a sound.

 

“My dear chap,” he stated, “Let me take this opportunity to introduce myself to you. My name is Tobias Augustine Barrett III, from New York City, a man of pride and passion, too.”

 

His fine speech threw me for a loop. I had no idea how to act or what to say. “Uh . . . I’m Robert Bell, Jr., the town marshal, but you can call me Bobby,” I stammered in my down-home country way.

 

He ran his eyes up from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. “I do not see, on any part of your dress, a badge indicating you are the law,” he said.

    

I bent my head to scan my duds, only to discover my badge had gone a missin’. “Sir, I could have sworn I put it on this mornin’ after I came home from fishin’.”

    

He smiled and spoke, “No matter, for the moment let’s say we are in agreement, you are the man in command. Therefore, I must ask your indulgence in listening closely to the proposal I put forth and do your best to understand.

    

“It has been over five years since my wife died and not a day goes by that I do not shed a tear. However, it is my worst nightmare to live out my life alone, to have nobody with whom to share my hopes and dreams. This is my biggest fear.

 

“So I decided to put my grieving behind me, put my affairs in order, go out in the world and get on with my life. I made a list of everything I needed to do and each has been checked off in an orderly manner, except one— finding a wife.”

 

“Good heavens! You live in the big city. And it looks like you have plenty of money. You definitely sound smart. You must have a lot of chances to meet a woman who’d find her way into your heart.”

 

“Yes, everything you say is indeed true, for I am an educated man of means who could have almost any woman within reach. But therein lies the problem, as it is widely known by all, especially women, I am a wealthy man, and I fear my trust they will breach.”

 

“Okay, so whatta you want me to do? I’m not the marryin’ type. And why here? How am I goin’ to find you a wife?” “That’s my point, my good man, for I am anonymous here and it will give me a chance at love and the opportunity to go on with my life.”

 

“So, if I choose to help you, you’re gonna haveta change—your clothes, your car, and the way you talk will give you away.” “So, kind sir, with your help and guidance, I need to become a man of these parts and look and talk as if I belong, with all the right things to say.

 

“You know, this plan of yours is a bit odd, but things can get a might borin’ around here, so let’s give it a try. First we’ll get rid of your car, then your clothes—hmm, you and I are about the same size, so my duds will fit real well—make you a real western guy.”

    

 “All right, but I will need a new name, something worthy of your nice town—simple, down to earth, and country-like. Yes, I think I know what it is, simple and definitely cowboy. I will be Billy-Bob Pike.”

 

“Yeah, the name sounds great, but there’s one big thing that keeps makin’ you seem strange. And it will be your undoin,’ if the way you talk doesn’t change.”

 

I stared at this guy who seemed down in the dumps, his despair so obvious it made me sad-hearted. “Come on, smile,” I blurted. “I ain’t much on teachin’ good language, but learnin’ you to talk the way I talk—well . . . maybe . . . so let’s get started.”

 

My chores began with the movin’ of Billy-Bob’s car to the vacant barn down the road, a far distance for walkin’. Then I moved him into my small house, clothed him in my western duds, and began to work on his talkin’.

 

I kept him well hidden from the eyes of the town and, as the months passed, his speech learnin’ seemed to be fallin’ into place. With the town’s annual Christmas party commin’ soon, the timin’ would be right for Billy-Bob to meet the townsfolk face to face.

 

So that Friday evenin’, both Billy-Bob and I dressed in my Sunday finest and got into my marshal’s car and drove to town. We went into the party and, with the big test approachin’, I introduced Billy-Bob as my cousin from Dawson, about seventy-five miles down.

        

Turning toward him, I sputtered, “You’re on your own now, so move around the hall so you can meet the gal of your dreams tonight.” He disappeared, but as the evenin’ wore on, out of nowhere he reappeared, tuggin’ a might pretty lady—a beautiful sight.

 

In his most elegant “western” manner, he drawled, “Cousin Bobby, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Melissa Warren, Missy Warren’s aunt from the big city of Santa Fe.” Dressed in her classy city duds, she looked at me, smiled, and spoke in a charmin’ city way.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, kind sir, and it is my distinct honor to have been invited to this magnificent Christmas ball tonight. And meeting your cousin has been the height of my evening. With his down-home Texas charm, he does enthrall and delight.

 

“I have enjoyed my short time in your wonderful town, and, since making the acquaintance of this marvelous man, I believe I will extend my stay. He is just what I have been searching for, a gentleman of little pretense, enchanting, and kind in a fine western way.”

 

And so, it seems, “cousin” Billy-Bob indeed had found the “gal of his dreams.”

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.