by Slim Randles
It all began when Windy Wilson told the assembled philosophers at the Mule Barn truck stop that he was going to start writing songs so he could win what he called the Nobelly Prize for Lit-a-chur.
He said Bob Dylan won it and got money and all kinds of stuff and his name was in the paper, and Windy figured he could do the same thing, only in country music.
Steve had been listening to this for some minutes and finally said, “Windy, tell you what. You write a song, and I’ll sing it.”
“You can sing?” Windy said.
“No. But I figure I can sing as good as you can write songs.”
Well, the gauntlet had been tossed down, stomped in the mud, and thoroughly slandered!
The next day, ol’ Windy drove up to the city to the Jerry Hat Trick Community College, named and funded by our only successful hockey player from here in the valley.
He asked if there was a class he could take on writing famous songs. They didn’t have one. The nice lady asked if he was interested it taking clarinet lessons, but the old cowboy and camp cook had to decline the offer.
He sure was disappointed. You see, he needed to figure out the notes to go with his first song, which he’d already named “Spread the Manure out under the Tree, cuz I’m Fixing to Go Skinny Dipping with Thee.” He figured it had everything a great song needed, romance, nudity and agriculture.
Now if Steve could only sing ….
