Barks of Larch

When you fall off the horse of life, git back on and ride like hell.

Monday, June 28, 2010


(A Bark of LARCH)

Hi, guys! Well off on another Avon Skin-So-Soft sales call for the benefit of North Georgia Ridge Riders (hell, some of us even ride on top of the horses! Heh, heh, I saw Tim ‘Coon pushing his mare like it ran out of gas – he oughta sell some more computer stuff so he can buy another belt as his pants were down around his ankles !)

For this sales call, I wore a nice pink shirt, selected a nice pair of large flowery print Bermuda shorts (I hear they’re coming back), slipped on my hiking boots with the red tipped socks, and wore that Mexican hat with the band flowing in the breeze which I sent Pierrette to Cox’s when it was on sale as a “Seer Sucker Hat” (Tim and Jim still think she misunderstood and went to Sear’s instead).

As I popped out of my Truckee at Bubba’s Joint & Pool Hall, the parking lot was jammed full of the biggest goddamn motorcycles with all kinds of crazed looking men and gals with leathers, chains, helmets with crossbones and skulls, all holding axe handles and bicycle chains (must’ve been a big sale at Home Depot). The guys and some of the gals had meaner, foul smelling, scraggier beards than those midget Arabs in my last sales report on Hidden Valley Nudist Camp. Since they were all glaring at me, us sales types are great for initiating conversation and opening the sales prospects minds, so I said, “Sure got some nice looking Honda’s there “. Well you could’ve heard a pin drop, so to break the impasse, I passed a little gas – well, I actually farted, hell it was a 5 star flutter blast !

Well that started the introductions as several of the guys and gals started belching and farting (just like the good old Frat parties). There was Moose – must’ve weighed 300 lbs., Angel (meaner than shit and drooling), Slippery Dick (how do parents name their kids?), Axe Handle Man (sure did put a mean dent in my truck hood), Ass-Eyes (and he looked it), Rotten Crotch Annie (she was only 3 feet tall, had pistol grip ears and a concave recession on the top of her head – looks like it could hold a beer can) and Two Dogs-A-Fuckin (a Cherokee Indian gal, hadn’t had a bath in months but since all the flies gathered on her, it kept them off the rest of us).

With a couple of Skin-So-Soft bottles, I eased into Bubba’s Bar singing “Ding, Dong, Avon’s here”, but I tripped on the doorway and one bottle spilled on the floor which made it slicker than Owl shit ! Moose pushed me aside, slipped and fell right on his ass, coating his black leather jacket and leather pants with Skin-So-Soft. Ass-Eyes grabbed me and dropped me into a chair by a table and sat down with Rotten Crotch Annie. Being an adroit salesman, I saw the timing was perfect for small talk and saw a football game was on TV. So I said that Green Bay, Wisconsin, had nothing but football players and whores. Ass-Eyes grabbed me and said his girl friend, Rotten Crotch Annie, was from Green Bay, so I quickly asked her what position she played ! Slippery Dick then joined us and I guzzled beer like the biggees. I pulled Dick over and said that girl at the bar looks like she attracts men by wearing her ankles behind her ears; well, Slippery Dick’s eyes glazed over and said that’s his sister. Guess I blew that sale.

So I thought I’d join the group at the pool table, grabbed a cue stick and told them to rack the balls and I’d break. Thought I’d show off my pool skills as I rammed my cue stick back and felt the end hit something soft and fleshy; glancing back I saw Axe handle Man doubled over in pain, and as I tried to hit the cue ball being off balance, I scratched an 8 inch strip of green felt, hell, I even grooved the slate! Then Axe Handle Man said he would rack the balls now – mercy me, what he did with that cue stick; I still don’t walk straight! As I turned away I knocked the light out over the pool table with my cue stick so that ended the game.

Then I had to take a whiz like a race horse, so I moseyed into the men’s room. Well, Moose was standing at the urinal next to me and I was admiring his black leather jacket so I said, “You sure got a nice one”. Golly gee, he just slapped the living dog shit out of me, zipped up his pants and stormed out.

I eased up to the bar next to Ass-Eyes and grabbed a glass that looked like straight Evan Williams, so I downed that sucker – holy shit, I coughed and spit, eyes popping out, throat burned like a 3 alarm fire; but then I turned nonchalantly to Ass-Eyes and said that was smooth! He stared at me in disbelief for a minute and said that was his tobacco spit!

I decided it was time to end this sales call (cold calls never were my thing); and they all followed me out to my truck. Guess I made an impression as several lifted their fingers, which obviously meant that super salesman Don and Avon were #1, and several more, even the unfriendly gals, bared their rears to show how soft Avon can make even gnarled flesh.

Like that movie guy, Arnold what’s his name (talks funny), I threw out my scrawny chest, flexed my sagging breast – felt my nipples go hard – gee, it was exhilarating as I turned to them as I was walking away and said,” I’ll be back!” Lordy, lordy, I never in my born life saw such a flurry of activity with people scrambling over each other, half naked men and women with their pants around their ankles jumping on those god awesome bikes, roaring engines, spurring black smoke, throwing gravel, and flat ass hauling out of Bubba’s parking lot – hope I didn’t offend them with my remarks.

@Copyright May 1, 1992 Don “LARCH” Loedding

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