Boss Hogg, Part I (~775 Words) - Writers Forum

rboy27 · 10-26-2006, 08:46 PM

I wanted to do a two-part story idea here, don't ask why because even I don't know.

I tried to take a different writing approach here, not the cynical dark humor I usually write, but more of an autobiographical approach inspired greatly by David Sedaris. Enjoy and, as always, critisism is welcome.

Boss Hogg

Like most every young man of my generation, there was a time I dreamed of being a rock and roll star. Since my early teens I have been unrelenting in my quest for musical greatness. Every year or so, I would develop a need to learn a new instrument. The one I’ve never been able to tackle, however, was the instrument of voice. To begin, my speaking voice had very little conviction and, as you may imagine, my singing voice was no greater in presence or volume. Though most of those close to me agree that I have developed a more profound tone and pitch, I remain, at best, an average vocalist. Yet, I have never been able to shake the most embarrassing quality of my voice, both spoken and sung; I am a very petite man and have a very petite voice. As a result, I tend to sing more like a woman, or a young girl at best.
Of course, this never stopped me from singing. Like many, I sing in the shower, alone at home, and on long drives. I do so also, occasionally, on short drives, but more so especially on long drives. Before a trip, I make sure to pack a sufficient number of CD’s to which I may offer my bland falsetto accompaniment. Queen albums are a particular favorite, seeing as how Freddie Mercury, too, rarely sang on the low end of the musical scale.

When in high traffic areas, I am very often self-conscious about those outside may still hear me through the closed doors and windows of my Element and try and maintain a sense of choral decency for the sake of those around me. Once on the outskirts of humanity of course, I hold back nothing, though, as of late, even the open road keeps me vocally pensive. The reason for this newfound propriety lies in the plains between Oklahoma and northern Texas.

I was taking one of my long drives, this one being the longest to date, from my home in Aurora, Illinois to some unforeseen area of the Southwest; I find that planning a vacation takes all the fun and adventure out of things. I had just passed through Shamrock, Texas and was headed towards Houston. All 2 square miles of Shamrock is flat, no lakes or rivers, no parks or forests, and boasts a population of just over 2,000. The city is so small, in fact, that you can tour it all while on one road. There’s the Shamrock Public High School, a Best Western hotel, and at the very edge of town, a small police station. There are no traffic lights, only one lonely stop sign in the middle of Shamrock’s “bustling” downtown area. There are no posted speed signs either, which to a city boy like myself means all the freedom in the world.

Just as I was leaving this majestic oasis of Wheeler County, I switched my CD player over to the radio. Local radio always fascinated me, especially in small towns with no news to talk about. I recall, for example, driving through southern Illinois listening to the only station that came in clearly, 105.7 FM, “The Pickle”. I was surprised when during the second verse of “Stayin Alive” an urgent voice took over the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to interrupt but I just received a news report from the Shelbyville Police Department”, the voice said. “At approximately two o’clock this afternoon, Mrs. Denkins misplaced her pie pan. It is a standard pan, roughly 12 inches in diameter, metal, and a slightly dented underside. If anyone has any information regarding the whereabouts of this pie pan, please contact the Shelbyville Police Department. Thank you, and now back to 105.7, The Pickle!”

Of course, being in Texas, the only local station that even vaguely came in played only country and western music. This wasn’t a completely bad thing mind you; I do enjoy some country music every now and again. As it turns out, the station, which I failed to catch the name off, was playing a full weekend of Johnny Cash. This was great news for me as I have always enjoyed the Man In Black and sang to his records with more vigor than most other artists. Perhaps it was his pleasing baritone that I found so appealing, as I always wished my voice were deeper. Just as I was passing the police station, “Jackson” came on to play and I turned my stereo speakers as high as they could go. It wasn’t until halfway through the song that I noticed the flashing red-and-blue lights behind me.