Pete's News

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

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

Have you been watchin' them dancin' shows on the TV? You know, like that Dancin' With the Movie Stars show. I ain't for shore why they call it that. There ain't none of 'em movie stars that's on there. And there's another'n called Don't You Wish You Could Dance. Or somethin' like that. A lot of people like them dancin' shows, but I kinda wish we hadn't never started watchin' 'em. Why? Well, you'd know why if you had a mule like Rosebud.

Rosebud can't just set back and watch a dancin' show. She can't just pick out a favorite and cheer 'em on. Me, I ain't like that. There's trees out there in the yard that can dance better'n me, so I don't have no trouble just settin' back and watchin'. But Rosebud thinks she's got to get right in the middle of whatever it is that's goin' on. If there's somebody dancin', she's got to dance too. And not just dance. She's got to dance better than whoever it is that's up there.

It's in her blood, she says. Says she gets it from her daddy. And she might at that. He was a dancin' donkey travelin' with a carnival that passed through here a long time ago. I only seen him that one time, but I remember him bein' a good dancer. Dancin' Jack, they called him, and he put on quite a show for the people. The music started and he reared up on his hind laigs and started dancin' around up there on the stage and the people watchin' just went wild. Yeah, he was that good.

Rosebud ain't near the dancer that ole Dancin' Jack was but she's a lot like him in one way. When one of them dancin' show comes on, she starts wigglin' around and first thing you know she's up and dancin'. I don't think she can help it. That's why I wish we hadn't never started watchin' them shows. It ain't that I mind her dancin'. No, that ain't it. But this is a old house we live in up here in the holler. There ain't no tellin' how long it's been standin' here. I know it was here before I was borned. And I'm afraid Rosebud's gonna get to dancin' and the whole dad burn house is gonna fall down.

That's why I hauled out my ole guitar and started strummin' on it. I was hopin' I could get her innerested in pickin' the guitar and get this dancin' stuff out of her head. I figger it's gonna be purty bad, a mule pickin' a guitar, but you ain't never heard of nobody tearin' down a house pickin' the guitar. It might sound like she's tearin' it down, but it ain't actual doin' no damage. So, give me a wad of cotton to stuff in my yers and I'm in bizness. That's what I'm thinkin'. Bring on the guitar pickin' mule!

Well, to cut right through to the end, it worked. She took to guitar pickin' like a duck takes to water. I can't pick the guitar no better'n I can dance, but I strummed around on it a little and, first thing you knowed, she was over there lookin' over my shoulder and wantin' to give it a try. The rest was easy. I had this how-to book showin' how to play it and it wasn't long before she was practicin'. My plan worked just like I'd hoped it would.

Only one problem. The mule here, she don't much like real music. You know, the kind like you hear on K-DUM, the Gump Holler radio station, country music with a little of that adult contemptible stuff throwed in for flavorin'. That's what I was thinkin' when I come up with the guitar pickin' idea. But, like I said, she didn't go for that kind. So, you say, rock 'n roll ain't too bad. I can put up with it. It's better than havin' the house tore down. But she don't like rock and roll neither.

What she does like is that Spinish guitar pickin', the kind where you pick the guitar and stomp your feet.

So now she's standin' in the middle of the floor with a weed stickin' out of her mouth—on account of we ain't got no roses—pickin' the guitar and stompin'. And stompin'. And stompin'. And we're gonna have to move to the barn 'cause she's gonna tear the house down.

Why can't life just be simple? Nobody else has to put up with stuff like this. Who else do you know of that's got a mule that picks the guitar and stomps? And the worst part is that I brought it on myself. It was my idea. How do I manage?

There's one thing about it, though. It could be worse. I know it don't sound like it but what if she'd took up singin' along with the pickin' and stompin'? There might be a mule somewhere that can sing, but Rosebud ain't one of 'em. Her singin' kinda puts you in mind of the noise it makes when somebody scratches on a blackboard. Of course she can't pick the guitar either. All she's really good at is the stompin'. But she's really good at that. She's a first class stomper.

But this is my mess. I made it and I'll clean it up. Maybe I'll get her some piano lessons. And, since we ain't got no piano for her to practice on, she'll get bored and quit in a day or two.

Think that'll fool her? No, not for long. She's smarter'n that. But thius here is kinda like wavin' a flag to get somebody's attention. Them dancin' shows is about over with and what I'm countin' on is that these piano lessons will keep her distracted till they do. See? I ain't as dumb as I look.

No, wait. That didn't come out right.