Welcome to my world of childish stories from a childish mind.

Now that you re here, why not take a moment, relax & check out some of the stuff I have on here.
All comments are welcome, but please be polite. I hate it when the truth is told. lol
I hope you enjoy what I have written.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Citified Farmer

Living in the country has always been my life long dream, and I was ready for a change for the better. I wanted the freedom to do my own thing. To breath deeply and smell that pure fresh air flowing through my smog filled nostrils. I needed to express my Independence as a person who could take control of his life. I knew what i wanted. I knew in my heart what I had to be. I had to become a farmer. Problem was, I'd never been on a farm before.
I was sophisticated, educated beyond belief. Versed in everything from Shakespeare to Saturday morning cartoons. I knew what life was all about. I knew everything I needed to know about about Einstein. He was that guy with the funny hair. No one could fool me.
I was born in the city, raised in the city & now I wanted to impress my fellow farmers with all my intelligence & know how. Boy, was I raring to go. You just can't argue with smarts like that.

The sun was just about to raise its face with a cheery," Good mornin' to ya." That's farmer talk. Here I was at 4:30 in the morning, out in the field with a stick in one hand to poke the holes & a pail of link bi products in the other. I trudged along, one step at a time. Poke a hole, drop a seed. poke a hole, drop a seed. Another victory for this would be farmer from the great concrete jungle. I was determined to become the worlds first sausage farmer.
One of the great things I really love about country living is the peace & solitude. There are no screaming sirens blasting out your eardrums almost as loud as some " cool dude" with a ghetto blaster bigger than a VW Beetle. 

Crickets are my favourite summer sound. I just love sitting for hours listening to them singing their songs of love like an orchestra of Jack Benny's. They say they're calling their mates when they make that sound. Those little romantic devils. Who else could be enticed into a love affair by rubbing together your hind legs than a itty bitty cricket? 

The hens are a mystery to me as I stood there mesmerized by these fine feathered friends happily clucking their way along the ground. Here a peck, there a peck, as they munch out on morsels of their favourite delight. No matter how hard I looked, I just couldn't find the eggs. Quite a few hens sat there in the hen house looking at me like I was some kind of beginner. Beginner indeed! I knew those eggs were here somewhere. After all, I'd seen those pearly white shells peering back at me from the store shelves. All it took was the ingenuity to figure out how they got all those eggs in those little cartons.  

The day finally came for the ultimate decision in my life. I had to buy a cow. Those huge, lumbering giant beasts that make everything on a farm seem like home. After all, what was a farm without a giant beef steak roaming around, eating its way through my lawn mower chores? I was a thinker. A man of destiny. I knew I had the smarts to pull this off , so I went in search of that beautiful, cud chewing addition that would make my life complete. It really didn't matter that I didn't know one cow from the other. Nor did it seem important that I wasn't sure what that thing was hangin' down underneath it. They just had to be something left over from the prehistoric age. Life was sweet & I had found my niche. 

I thought it was funny though when the farmer I tried to buy my prized possession from  looked at me in the same way some of my farm animals did when I told him I wanted a cow to milk without that funny looking bag attached. I wanted perfection in all my animals. After all, I could make a killin' here. I'd heard you could also get butter and cheese. I just couldn't figure out how to get all those goodies out of her. 

Well, Saturday night came & went. The only reason I mention it is because that's my bath night. Yep! Every Saturday night. Well, maybe not every Saturday night. The last time was, well, not last Saturday. Nor the one before that. No, it wasn't the one before that. Oh well, who can keep track?

I don't have a bath tub here, so I learned about something called a sponge bath. Maybe if enough people hear  about it, it'll catch on. Ya think? So, here I was that Saturday, 2:00 in the afternoon that is, not at night standing in front of my house. I have a big yard. It's right next to the road. To try the newest fad, I gathered up about 24  sponges. Laid half of them out on the lawn side by side & wet them down. Looked good to me. Next, I stripped naked. Well, that's what I was told I had to do. I laid down on the sponges & covered myself with the ones I had left & then splashed more water on me.  This was fun.

Passers by seemed to enjoy it too as they pointed at me laughing & honking their horns. You could tell they had enjoyed one of these sponge baths themselves. What a wonderful experience.
What do I do now with all those sponges?

I love animals. I had decided to make friends with as many as I could. I was their new pied piper. Here I was, looking for those cute, little wildlife creatures when I ran across this little pussy cat. Boy, it looked soft & cuddly. I knew I just had to make friends with it, so off I went chasing this bundle of fur. Gosh, it was the first time though that I saw a cat with a white stripe. Must be a countrified breed.

Well, it seemed the dear little pussy cat had had enough play ' cause it stopped dead in its tracks. That's when I ran up to pet it. Up went its tail & I thought, " Boy, isn't that cute?'I'd never seen a kitty try to wave with its tail before. Just then, the darn thing fired at me with chemical warfare in full force, right in the face. I didn't know cats could do that. 

When I went to the neighbours farm to ask him what I should do, he almost ran to the house when he saw me coming. Maybe the smell had something to do with it. I'd always thought country folk were friendly. This really baffled me. Through the closed kitchen door, not to mention windows, shutters and anything else they could close he kept shouting two words to me over & over again. " Tomato juice." I wonder what it's made of ? 

So, I bought a whole case in town. Not many people stayed around that day. I brought it home & tried to rid myself of this irritating smell. Well, it didn't work. I went through all 12 cans. Yes sir, I drank everyone & it didn't help a bit. I did have to make a lot of trips out back though. Darn home remedies.

     I sure took a fancy to goat keeping when I visited my neighbour down the road. Here was a man of real substance. Goats everywhere. Boy goats, girl goats & whatever there is in between. I knew this had to be my calling as I stood there wide-eyed & eager to have some of those beasts for myself. So, I bought one with some money I had saved.

For some reason, people wanted to pay me for the chance of me telling them what a great farmer I had become. They seemed to enjoy it, for many times I saw tears running down their cheeks as they stood there shaking their heads, laughing uncontrollably. I still cant figure that out.

Dalton Lasher
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 Contact : makwawebsites@yahoo.ca


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