(Mayor Jenkins, may he rest in peace.)
You see that guy. He's dead. Or at least who he was is dead. Death is the best way he knows to describe the shedding of his former self and it's trappings. He had a good life that he spent in a wonderful town in southern Nebraska. But then he got a wake up call when his wife left him one morning for a man in Strang. He had a few weeks to reflect on all that he has accomplished but somehow came up feeling as if there was something missing.
Then he heard it. Soft at first, but steadily increasing in intensity, he heard the siren song of the open road. He had brought Belvidere as far as it was going to go and it was time to spread his wings and take to the highway. So he dusted off his 1960 Ducati Elite and left it all behind. So Mayor Jenkins is no longer with us, and in his place is just a man named Spooner. This is his story. Hop on.
Sincerely,
Spooner Jenkins
5 comments:
If you get a chance, please come and visit in beautiful Georgia. We always have room for guests!
Rob
Sure thing, but first I've got business in Strang. Personal business.
Hey, that beard looks good on you. Looks like you could use some granola, though.
Hey, I like the beard. Looks like you could use some granola, though.
Granola isn't such a good idea with my diverticulosis.
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