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What Did Dear Old Dad Say When His Son Brought Home a Saloon Girl?

Kenneth, born and raised in the South, resides in Hamilton, Alabama. He enjoys sharing his unique perspectives on life through his writing.

My kind of grl!

My kind of grl!

Recently I've noticed a lot of TV broadcasts about time travel. I won't mention the popular series about a man who went back into time and "leaped" into several lifetimes of other people. His only companion was a man named "Al," and by now, you should know what show I am talking about. Note: the reason that I am describing my show in this fashion is because I became too lazy to write an entire explanation about the name of the show name. Thank you kindly, Kenneth.

During the time of this series' first broadcasting a few years back, I was somewhat captivated by the show's premise, writing, and producing. Mind-boggling at most and I speak for many more who would agree with me. And if you took the time to learn what is involved with time travel, you would also be as amazed as I am.

Quite-frankly, there was yet another show about time travel and this show also starred two physicists who walked down a big, wide tunnel and suddenly arrive in one place in some place either years in the past or future. I would take a cup of hot, black coffee on a bribe if I told you this show name because this show was my favorite show about time travel. The show as realistic enough to portray the scheming of Washington politicians, yet the innocence of the time technicians who were there at their control screens to keep their two buddies alive. And I know what you are thinking. This show is far away from "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure." The less I speak about this one is very wise.

Saloon girls have been around forever.

Saloon girls have been around forever.

Speeding-up my imaginative thought, I've stumbled upon a backyard time travel machine built by a team of apprentice physicists from the TV show, "The X-Files," and since you know the two stars, I will not be accused of overkill in naming them, but the show was well-written and produced by Chris Carter. The fan base was astronomical (sorry for the pun.) When the show was canceled, I felt bad, but realized that was how good TV shows are crumbled by the giant TV networks, so I muddled-along for years. That was until I found "this" show once again on another network and then I was very happy.

As I stand anxiously awaiting how to get inside this time machine and hope that I can understand its mechanics and take myself a trip to end all trips. That was not asking too much, I thought. So here I started my short walk to the door of this exciting machine. But I was alone. No family, frends, and no time travel geeks here to keep me safe and able to be brought back from whatever location in time that I might have landed.

I push the one button marked "start" and within a few seconds, I suddenly-appear what looks to be a dusty road leading between a lot of buildings where a lot of people are milling around. I know where I am! I have been sent to one of those thriving western towns such as Dodge City, Kansas, where the fabled "Matt Dillon," U.S. Marshal, kept the peace being helped by his abe-bodied deputy, "Festus Hagin"

Oh, I do not bother to speak to these two men with steeley eyes and rock-hard jaws because they look to be on an important bit of business to take care of at the famous "Long Branch Salon," where everyone's saloon-owner, "Miss Kitty Russel," presides and holds court keeping things relaxed and doing away with drunken gunslingers. And doing one great job, from all that I've seen.

Then, there I see the reason for my time-travel: those beautiful, interesting saloon girls. What a delightful sight that they are. Lovely in every respect. I cannot find the errve to walk-up and chat with them. I have to struggle to get enough courage to get their attention. Hey, there! Yes, you, gorgeous saloon girls! May I talk to you? I cry. They giggle and point at me. "Matt," "Festus" and "Kitty" laugh, not with me, but at me. And since the three are all too rough for me tandle, I leave it alone.

What a natural beauty!

What a natural beauty!

Now to make that one important step to just making contact with these saloon beauties. My shirt is sticking to my body from the profuse-sweating. Who could blame me? These girls were the main reason why the gunslingers, cattle drovers, and cowboys all congregated each night to have some fun playing poker, drinking beer and whiskey, and having a knock-down, drag-out fight to just ease the tenson. I know. This atmosphere is very dangerous, but if no one else has a problem with it, I sure don't.

"Uhhh, hi, there," I softly say to these saloon girls with names such as: "Flame," "Barbara," and "Angel," who look so pretty to me.
All three girls smile and await for more conversation.

"Gee, honey! You're sure a scary fellow, we must say, "Flame," giggles.

"Yes, you are so right. I've never met a real saloon girl in my life, so please forgive me," I ask I wipe sweat from my forehead.

"Honey, do you want something cool to drink?" "Barb" says.

"Beer?" I reply.
"No. sarsaparilla. That's a cool drink!" she repl
"Just what is it that you want?" "Flame" snaps.

"May I, with your permission, just ask you a few questions?" I say loaded with a lot of hope.

The three girls all nod in agreement.

I ask the three girls what led them to becoming a saloon girl. They quickly told me that I needed to take a look outside to see if there were anything else for (they) to do in order to make a living. I look and feel very foolish. I saw no other establishment that offers so much--nightly-excitement dancing with rough guys and just having a good time. These are the reasons why the girls chose saloon work. And a few coins of gold for the trouble.

I ask the three if any of them are married. This question brings me a lot of laughter at me for asking such an ignorant question. I understand and move on to another question. I get them to explain if there is a school of "Saloon Girl College" located near town where they or any girl get a quick education on the finer points of being a saloon girl in a short time. The three looked stunned. And look at each other.

"You mean that boring stuff like being a school marm?" they reply and still looking stunned.

"Sure, why not be a school marm? It seems to be a safe job," I explain.

"Son, this is just the reason why we are saloon girls--we cannot stand the boredom!" "Flame" says almost screaming.

I take my life in my own hands when I get them to discuss if they want to continue to work as saloon girls to save some money for their retirement.

"What's that, retirement? Never heard of such," "Angel," says looking very serious.

"Ohhh, that's the time when we can relax and just take a long, restful nap," "Flame" says and the three nod in agreement.
I do not try to explain because I am out-gunned and know better than to start trouble.

I ask the girls if I may ask them one more question. They agree and then thank me for not making them become bored enough to fall asleep.

"If I were to bring one of you home with me so I can introduce you to my dear, old dad, to see if he approves of you so I can marry you," I ask with a mile-wide smile.
Then out of nowhere, I see three burly gunslingers, two cattle drovers, and an angry "Kitty Russel" who obviously looks upset. What did I say that was wrong, I didn't think that my question was that bad," I explain quickly.

"No, son," you didn't say anything wrong," "KItty" replies. "The only thing that you have to do is go through us before you take one of my girls home to meet your dear old dad--and if you succeed in getting past us, then we will not prevent you from marrying one of these fine girls," she says with her eyes flashing fire.

I'm not stupid. (well, not stupid enough to ask for trouble,) I make one step toward the door.

"Okay. You win. Your group is way too big for me to fight, so I will be moseying-along. Thanks for letting me talk to these pretty girls," I say as I continue to walk through the door.

"Ohhh, son," "Kitty," says. "There is one more way that you can take one of my girls to let your old dad see if she will make you a good wife or not."

"What's that?" I say with a lot of excitement.

"Be one of them," "Kitty" answers with no smile.

"One of them? You mean, be a saloon girl?" I ask hoping that this is a joke.

It's not. I am now "Sophie, the Saloon Girl," now working at "Kitty's" "Long Branch Saloon." Oh, I finally get used to the costume that they have given me, and the gold coins are really not that bad, but that stupid cowboy with two left feet trying to dance with me surely needs a lot of work.

June 25, 2021______________________________________________________

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© 2021 Kenneth Avery

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