Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Driving Out 70

So, one beautiful summer's day, back when gas was less expensive, the Butcher and I were driving east on 70 (though it may have been 70S, I can't remember) and we were going farther east than we'd ever been on that stretch of road, out past 840, out past that town that seems to be in a perpetual state of yard sale, out, out, out until there was nothing but us, some hills, some chickens sitting by the side of the road, and some scattered houses. And, clear out there, we saw a weird thing. In front of one of the houses, on the north side of the road, was what appeared to be a large fiberglass birthday cake and I'm talking a "four strippers could fit in that thing" large birthday cake with three tiers. Written on it in pseudo-icing was "Happy Birthday Jesus." Since then, we occasionally fight about the meaning of this cake. The Butcher insists that it probably was exactly what it looked like: a large cake that naked women might emerge from in honor of a man of Hispanic descent whose birthday is in the middle of the summer. And the Butcher still thinks that cake was evidence of some kick-ass party that we were either too early for or too late. But I insist that it was probably exactly what it looked like: some forlorn Christmas prop that couldn't fit in the storage closet at the tiny church it belonged to and so was parked in this front yard most of the year, its wayward message serving as a beacon to those in search of a church home. Sadly, though we've been out both 70 and 70S many times since then, we've never seen the giant cake again.

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have to vote forlorn Christmas prop. Had it been an Hispanic party favor, there would've been several Hispanics occupying it. Permanently. Flowers would've been planted all around. Large gaudy pickup trucks would've been parked in the yard.

Further, given this regions' penchant for phone shaped funeral wreaths bearing the words "Jesus Called," a Happy Birthday Jesus cake would hardly be a suprise.

Jon

5/11/2005 10:26:00 AM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

Well, unless the price of gas goes down, or unless the Butcher wins the lottery, our adventures lately are confined to the back yard and I don't think people want to see a bunch of pictures of trains.

As for phone-shaped funeral wreaths, I hadn't heard of it, but it makes sense. Like that old blues song, "Jesus is on the main line, tell him what you need. My Jesus is on the main line, tell him what you need. Call him up and tell him what you need."

5/11/2005 01:08:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The phone wreaths exist and are used frequently in rural southern-middle Tennessee. I believe they're especially popular when someone dies young or unexpectedly.

After first witnessing said wreath, I wrote a song. "Will your line be busy when Jesus calls you home?" Hard to believe my songwriting career never took off.

I happen to like train photos.

-Jon

5/11/2005 01:42:00 PM  
Blogger Peggasus said...

I think you are probably correct, but I like the way the Butcher thinks.

5/11/2005 02:27:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

If only the Butcher had owned a camera when he saw the giant man running along the top of the train dressed only in his briefs. That would have been something to write about!

That Butcher, he can sniff out a party like nobody's business.

I wish he read and wrote more as it would be good fun to have him comment here. Instead, I usually read the funny things out loud to him and he laughs while he does his art shit.

5/11/2005 03:45:00 PM  

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