I used the title from an old Bob Wills’ song for this week’s Friday Flash Fiction. While I was at it, I raped the lyrics from another song a by popular western swing artist, through in a couple of rednecks, stirred briskly, and threw out in the hot sun to bake.
This week’s photo by Amanda Gray. To read more stories, go to http://madison-woods.com/ click on the Blog tab, and follow the links.
My Adobe Hacienda
“How much further, Bubba? I ain’t seeing no ocean yet.”
“The guy said it’s remote. He called it a romantic getaway.”
Two hours later.
“Thar it is, Charlene. Our mansion in paradise.”
“Don’t look like no mansion to me. It ain’t even got no roof.”
“That’s so you can see the stars at night, Sweetie. Look. Thar’s the Golden Gate.”
A section of wrought iron fence, painted John Deere yellow, dangled from a concrete pier.
“Let me see that deed again, Charlene. Why, I ought to shoot that singing cowboy.”
What’s a matter, honey?”
“This ain’t Arizona. It’s New Mexico!”