Bored Strait (again)

While most of the world is watching the Summer Games in Rio, I’m busy training for the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea. Unlike most athletes who specialize in one particular discipline, I plan to bring home the gold in multiple events. This may sound like an unreasonable expectation for an overweight man who recently turned sixty, but before you book me a padded cell at the insane asylum, check out my plan for becoming America’s first Obese Olympic Champion. It all starts with the proper diet and finely tuned training regime.

I arise each morning before the crack of noon and start my day with a nutritionally balanced breakfast. One half-dozen chocolate donuts, a double order of biscuits and gravy, and a pound of bacon hold me over till lunch. (The last thing you want is to be halfway through a strenuous workout and run out of energy.) By 4pm I’m famished and on my way to Dave’s Pizzeria for Happy Hour. Two Chicago-style pizzas and a pitcher of beer later, I’m ready to start thinking about dinner.

If all goes as planned, 546 days from now you can watch me blow away the competition in the Luge and a variety of other downhill events (using gravity to my advantage).

If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Gold Medalist in the 100 word Freestyle Flash is Sheree Godiva Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.

copyright - Adam Ickes
copyright – Adam Ickes

Born on the day Ernest Tubb died, Claude was destined to become a country star. He had the boots, the cowboy hat, even the sequined-encrusted, powder-blue jump suit. All he lacked was a decent singing voice.

“When Claude Bawls sings,” one music reviewer wrote, “his vocal tones are reminiscent of a coyote who sat down on a steel trap.”

Claude’s entourage included a couple of bleach-blonde, trailer-trash bimbos and his cousin, Leroy. Booked to play a Louisiana swamp family reunion, one of the bimbos constructed a sign from an empty beer carton promoting the event as “The Bored Strait Tour.”

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42 thoughts on “Bored Strait (again)

  1. Dear Claude,

    You might consider taking up Sumo. It sounds like you have the perfect diet plan for it. Although I’m not sure about the diaper and the man bun. Perhaps you’d best stick with the luge. As for country music, doesn’t it all sound like a wild animal caught in a steel trap? Perhaps I just don’t get the finer points of twang and a whining steel guitar. (Okay, I admit…I’m a Loretta Lynn fan but please keep that under your cowboy hat.)
    I’m flip turning at the end of the gene pool now.

    Freestylin’ Shalom,

    Sheree Godiva

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    1. Dear Sheree Godiva,
      I really wish you wouldn’t refer to my thong as an adult diaper. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but let’s just keep that under our cowboy hat as well, shall we?

      One thing about Claude, he can really howl out those hurtin’ songs about Mama, cheating, getting drunk, trains, and prison. In other words, all the important things in life. Too bad he doesn’t sing one about biscuits & gravy. I’m sure it would be a huge hit.

      Heading for the chow line,
      Claude

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  2. I stopped reading your diet sheet after ‘chocolate donuts’ – the only duoghnits worth eating are silled with jam and sprinkled with sugar. As for Claude – no reason he shouldn’t make a living, after all, many a singer has no musical ability.

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    1. I appreciate you looking out for my health, Doc. One of us should. 🙂
      I apologize for being so selfish. If I can live another 25 or 30 years, there will be young girls bathing me and changing my Depends. I’d hate to deprived them that opportunity. Perhaps Perry and I can be roommates. Wouldn’t that be a hoot!

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Claude Bawls. I remember him. He wrote that song, “Don’t Mess With The Wildcat.”

    Good luck on the Olympic challenge. My scouts tell me you’re going for breaking the record for most chili consumed — then, you’ll break ANOTHER record!

    Happy landings!

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    1. Yes, that was from the “Scratch Where It Itches” album. It might had made the charts had it not be for Claude’s howling vocals.

      Your scouts are spot on. I love chili and never seem to get my fill. I’m comment on the other possible record, but I’m way to modest.

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  4. Listen, Russ, I don’t mind you describing me in alarmingly perfect detail, but could you warn me first? If any of your work goes viral, as a dizzy (not bimbo-esque) blonde (not bleach) who grew up in a trailer and wanted to be a groupie (of the Beatles not a country singer–well maybe Elvis), I want to get in on at least 7.5 minutes of cyber-fame. It’s the least you can do.

    As for your training ambitions, I hear Twinkies are making a comeback–deep-fried. Look for them a Walmart in the frozen food section. You’re welcome!

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    1. You’re way to smart to be a bimbo, Lorna. Although, you were a cut groupie. Tell me more about the trailer.

      Deep fried Twinkles, are full of chemicals that might be considered “performance enhancing.” Those Olympic officials are funny about that stuff.

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      1. Seeing as I gave birth to one, the answer is yes and I shall harvest on Thursday night when the full moon is in Aquarius. I’ll have to chain him up, because, of course I’m willing to go the extra mile for Poke Sallet sympathizers.

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