Pete's News

ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT 
AND SOME THAT AIN'T


Howdy folks! This here's ol' Pete and Rosebud comin' at you again!

I don't know about you, but it seems to me like this innernet thing is gettin' plum outta hand. I ain't got nary computer and wouldn't know how to turn it on and off if I did have one, but you don't have to have no computer for that innernet thing to give you grief. No sir you don't. Let me tell you about what happened up here last week.

My mule Rosebud has always liked to have pen pals and write 'em letters and all that stuff. Well, after she got her a computer, she started writin' her letters to people on the innernet. It ain't for everbody, but she likes to write to people on the innernet. She gets a kick out of it, writin' on them facin' books and email and twitterin' and all that stuff. She was tellin' me about how one time she heared from somebody plum across the ocean, all the way to Cannady. And I didn't care. I figgered it wouldn't do no harm. And it wouldn't have, 'cept she signed herself up on one of them innernet datin' sites. That there was a big problem.

She started writin' to this ol' boy from out in Californy and after a week or two it seemed like she was gettin' a letter from him two or three times a day. The trouble was, she never mentioned that she was a mule. I reckon she figgered he wouldn't want to write letters to a mule. And I guess that's so. There ain't many young fellers that would. Well, anyway, she let on like she was a girl. She even got a pitcher of a human bean girl and put it on there. I don't know where she got it, but it looked like one of them movie star pitchers.

You'd think the ol' boy would've wised up, her bein' that purty. I mean, why's a purty girl like that writin' letters to some ol' boy in Californey? With looks like that, she'd have fellers lined up at the front door. He ort to a knowed that, but I don't know, maybe he's as dumb as her. Anyhow, him thinkin' Rosebud looked like a movie star, he got real inner-rested. Right after she put up that pitcher, the times he was on there jumped up to four or five times a day. And we ain't talkin' no little one or two-liner notes here neither. Him and her was on there for what seemed like hours at a time.

Finally, one day she got on there with him and started moanin' and groanin'. I thought the pore feller might've died or somethin' the way she was takin' on, and that was when she come clean to me about what she'd done. You see, I didn't know nothin' about her pertendin' to be a girl and sendin' off movie star pitchers to him. But when she got that letter, I reckon she figgered she was in trouble. And she was. The ol' boy, you see, the one from Californy, was on his way to Gump Holler. He was comin' all that way just to see her.

I don't care how dressed up she gets, there ain't no way Rosebud's ever gonna pass herself off as a human bean girl. Not even a ugly one. You can play-like you're anybody you want to as long as you're talkin' to somebody on the other side of the world, but when you're face to face, the jig is up. The thing is, you ort not to pertend you're somebody that you ain't. All it does is get everbody in a uproar. Rosebud showed me his pitcher, too, and this wasn't no bad lookin' dude. And I was the one caught in the middle. I was the one that was gonna have to figger out how to tell some pore ol' lovesick boy that his dream girl is a mule.

Well, the day come when he was s'posed to get here and I made her go with me to wait for him down at the bus stop at the crossroads. I decided when we got there I'd act like I was waitin' for somebody else so we could sorta size him up. He wouldn't know Rosebud, her bein' a mule and not lookin' nothin' atall like that movie star pitcher, and he didn't know nothin' about me.

The bus door opened and this little bitty ol', dried up lookin' feller got off. And he was the onliest one on there. Could it be him? I looked at the pitcher Rosebud give me. Naw, he was way too old. And ugly as a mud fence. If that was him, there was one thing for shore. He wasn't the feller in the pitcher.

So Rosebud was standin' there lookin' for somebody that looked like the pitcher she had and you could tell that he was lookin' for somebody too. And he finally come up to me and asked me if I knowed a Miss Rosebud from around here. When he said that, I knowed right off what'd happened. He'd done the same thing she'd done. Both of 'em had been lyin' to each other about what they looked like.

Rosebud got a shocked look on her face and took off, leavin' me standin' there. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He just stood there scratchin' his head, lookin' corn-fused and, God forgive me, I didn't have the heart to tell him that the love of his life was a mule. I mumbled somethin' about her takin' sick and dyin' real sudden like, and that he ort to go back home and try and forget about her. You could tell he was heartbroke when he got on the next bus and left, but not as bad as he would've been if he'd a found out about Rosebud bein' a mule. And I ain't never told nobody about it 'til now.

You can contact Pete and Rosebud by email at
bstover43@yahoo.com