The Blonde Looking For Star Bucks
Harris was sitting in his county seat waiting for his administrative assistant Sammy to return from Houston. Picking up Ma Bell after it rang the leader stated into the device, “I got off your turf, but you should think about checking the plumbing to fix that sloppy track,”
Since there was no response the phone returned to the cradle and the Texan peered at the television that had a basketball game. Watching a Cougar sensation blow a shot he mumbled, “doesn’t Lebron J know the when he is out of the money shot range?” He questioned not knowing what was going to happen next.
Deciding to take his game watching fetish across the street Harris found a bar stool with his name on it, “Where in the world is the service around here?” Harris was being critical until someone emerged from the back room holding a keg that needed to be set up under the bar.
“How can I help you,” Polly Trix inquired placing a silver barrel on the ground.
“What is that?” Harris inquired pulling a twenty dollar bill out of his bare wallet.
“The New York marketers call it ‘when you are looking for a bud and love a busch while trying to keep miller lite since the lone star was due to the silver bullet from the Colt 45 drink Mr. George.”
“Then I will have Mr. George on tap.”
“Okay a Mr. George tap coming right up,” was the response.
While Polly Trix showed her gymnastic physique, the foam formed in the chilled glass Harris tried to keep the conversation going, “you know you maidens should get them to give you barrels with special weight.”
Gritting her teeth, she handed the brew, “I am not a maiden, yes I am mature and yes I do have a special weight but to call me a maiden since I never won is just not fair.”
Taking a sip Harris responded, “this is good stuff.”
“It’s from Texas of course it’s good.”
There was a clanging at the door and in came a blonde looking like she just got off a commuter flight, “oh there you are,” Sammy belted out, “I have our financial situation figured out.”
“You mean the county won’t have a ghost town?”
Popping up from underneath Polly Trix put her two cents in, “what do you have against ghosts? I mean when you come into a place you should ask if someone is sitting there.”
“Can you please get me a coffee,” Samantha requested,
Knowing Samantha from a high school competition that she lost by a decimal point Polly Trix gave the look, “Is it being hot a priority?”
“Yes of course and now go back to being a piece of lass,” was the answer.
When Samantha went to her pocketbook Harris tried to go back to the subject manner, “about the county’s financial situation?”
“Here ,” Samantha handed him a sporty flyer then tended to the coffee that appeared out of nowhere, “this is café gold,” Samantha continued with her executive hardware props making a scene which made Polly Trix give a half a smile stating her case, “you know if that Arkansas wench did not beat me in floor exercise then I would of gone to regionals and probably to world’s so I am not a piece of lass.”
“Okay whatever,” the Texas blonde twirled her hair, “anyway Harris we have a clear advantage here, the girls in this competition on the flyer all wear tights and look pretty. We take a few photographs then post them on our Real Estate website and boom sell a few properties, no more threat of ghost towns.”
As the bartender rubbed the glassware in a certain way Harris responded to the pitch, “Sounds great get to work on it in the morning.”
After Sam left Harris ordered another beer and called Polly Trix over, “Call your friends who were on your gymnastic team, tell them to pull the uniforms we told you could keep out of the moth balls and we can meet over at the gym at sunrise, I can have a photographer there to take pictures and then post them on the real estate website by the first coffee break.”
“Sure Mayor, will do,” Polly Trix was glad to be of service.
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