Been busy times here in Stink Creek. Spring is always busy, and what with the raisin and his unfortunate mishap, Louise and I have been full-up busy cleaning up after Mamma H's shenanigans. There was some powerful fall out from our hauling ass through the lovely and somewhat tightly wound Stink Creek with Mamma's bosoms and the raisin's wee raisin awaving howdy at all and sundry.
Why the Ladies Committee for the Glorification and Edification of Stink Creek set out a petition at all the stores, wandering the neighborhoods, knocking on folks doors, trying to get them to outlaw sex in folks over the age of 70. Now, the way they was gonna go about that was get the pharmacists both here and in the next town over, London, to not fill prescriptions for viagra or sell any sexual products to seniors, sorta the same way them poor teens can't go buy their liquor or smokes. Shewey, you know who heads that dumbass committee of course. Why none other than our nemeses Edna and Willa!
So, what Louise and me did to make sure that the Ladies Committee didn't go spoiling the elders' fun was we went to the local high school and set up us a community service project for them juniors and seniors at the high school: adopt a senior citizen. And then we made darn sure to go right on along behind them ladies in their dress suits and fussy hats, acarrying their bibles and praying for them seniors' souls, and we let them folks know that ifn the Ladies Committee somehow managed to get that petition before the mayor that each one of our senior citizens would be paired with a teen, and they'd be walking into the pharmacists together. See, them seniors can buy what the other seniors need, ifn ya ken me and I think you do.
Sure enough, after three or four days of that, the Ladies had to fold their petition up and call it quits. We had us enough p-o'd parents and sure enough ticked off seniors that the dozen folks who'd had the foolish sense to cave to them fussy Ladies Committee members were waiting for Willa on her porch and jumpin out and screamin boo at her when she'd sneak out to do her own business.
Now, the mayor did come visit Mamma H and the raisin, made em swear up and down that there'd be no more displayin of private parts down main street again, and they stood there on the porch a resting against their walkers, looked him solemnly in the face, fingers crossed behind their backs, and swore they'd behave. I caught the glint in their eyes, though. Sure enough. And I reckon we ain't seen the last of parts or trouble.
Mamma H and the raisin are bound and determined to go out in a blaze of glory, they are, and they figure, surely, now that they are into their nineties, that they cain't be much longer for this world. They decided to enjoy themselves, and if part of that is pissing off the Ladies Committee for the Glorification and Edification of Stink Creek, it's a price they is happy to pay. I saw 'em just now, headin out the trailer, all gussied up in dominatrix gear, to go eat at the Sisters of Perpetual Agony Subway. They are one hell of a couple, I'll give em that, but the sight of the raisin's withered buttocks peaking out his chaps, well, let's just say I may have to wash my eyes out with soap to get the sting of that out, is what I'm saying.