Editor's Note: Those of you feeling sorry for the Hemingway of Hickman County who is treated with less than the deference his due by his spouse and editor for his wonderfully creative home town pieces, read on and welcome to my life...
She Who Must Be Obeyed
Gayle: (Her name is GAYE)
(for national security reasons, spell check has been shot and is no longer available for this transmission)
Saddly (Sadly), I am submitting to you, for your review, what is left of my humble efforts to write the FULL and ENTIRE 17 page history of the leadership project.
My editor, "she who must be obeyed" when handed my latest work, jumped up on her desk, sword and red pen in hands, shouting "ERerrr, you dogs, there's words loose who must die!!!"
WHoppsss, whoppsss....words, adjectives, nowns (nouns) fighting for their life sucummed (?????) to a mericless (merciless) death!
Whole thought structures, murderd!!! (murdered)
Wittey (Witty) adverbs done in by her scorn!
Ah, the pain of not letting the lead sentence be....It was the best of times. It was the worse of times.
As if my words were slugged and then dragged by their hair over to a corner and thus, simply became who, what, where and when.
Left hanging by their finger tips upon the gang plank, were the words that screamed out the why, the passion of yet to be, the vison of hope running wild through the streets of Clinton.
Meekly, I resign myself to an old cup of coffee, three ding dons, (Ding dongs) a peanut butercup (buttercup) for solice (solace) and healing of my wounded physic (psyche) ...
and with trembling hands I now pass on to you what is left (be it in ripped form) my labors of this day.