.He was a wild
privet, growing in my
backyard, about like This is my friend, Pablo.
.He was a wild
privet, growing in my
backyard, about like
this....
.but he was
in the wrong place. 'Cause he wanted to come to the beach and
give the Ladies...
...the BIG EYE! Then
he would share a lick of their...
..ice cream
cone.
Take a sniff...
to see if anything was cookin'!
If any of this bothered them,
or if they had "MAN" troubles,
he would lend a sympathetic ear!
If everything was O.K.,
he would pucker up for a KISS!
I promised you the WHOLESTORY... and that starts long ago when I was a tad. I always had to have something with me. I had one of these little round Pet Milk cans that I kicked everywhere! I kicked that can over about half of western Oklahoma! I kicked that can so much that all that was left were the two ice-pick holes!
Also, I liked to cut on wood. You could give me a 1x12 and a jackplane, and I would shave it down to a toothpick.
I moved to Mobile in 1987 and there was lots of wood...just going to WASTE! So, I obtained some carving tools and started whacking away. I had seen some walking-sticks with "Old Men" caricatures on them, and a lot of the hill-billy stuff from Branson, MO. But I wanted to do something different. The rattle-rings were just an experiment...Lucky ME! The first ones I made worked and did not break and fall off!
The first time that I took the stick that would become Pable to the beach, he was not finished. His head was just a smoothed-up chunck of root-mass. Most of the barrel was nearly as complete as you see it. Anyway, while strolling on the beach at Gulf Shores, I began to hear these excited female voices saying things like; "Is that BONE?"; "It looks just like BONE!". I wasn't paying any attention, just strolling along enjoying the sound of the rattle-rings and getting a little exercise, when one of these seven women in bikinnis spoke up with, "HEY, MISTER! Come show me Your Thing!". Of course, I showed them my thing and allowed them to handle it and admire it!
A couple of weeks later, after a five mile stroll along the beach, I was nearly back to my car, when two young ladies in thong bikinnis accosted me with the demand that I tell them the "STORY" of my 'stick. I DIDN'T HAVE A STORY! They replied, "That MAAAARVvelous a Thing really needs a story."
So, LADIES, I thank you for your assistance in getting me a story to tale of my walking-stick, Pablo, and all his little friends.