Serialization of the WACKY MISADVENTURES of WARBLE McGORKLE - CHAPTER 8 (of 70)
Warble and Mary Argue Over What is Normal and Warble Teaches Mary About Southern Culture
CHAPTER 8
Warble and Mary Argue Over What is Normal and Warble Teaches Mary About Southern Culture
Mary flings open the back door of the car, scurries back to grab onto Warble's outstretched hand and, with nary a how-do-you-do, drags him with all her might and main across the dirt and gravel to the car. Warble stumbles to his feet as they reach the car, and Mary facilitates his entry into the back seat with a swift kick to his backside.
Marvin is gaining ground--he is within a few dozen yards now. Mary runs around to the driver's side door, yanks it open, propels herself sideways onto the seat, cranks the engine, jams the car into first gear, and stamps on the gas pedal. Marvin has just reached the car. He makes a dive for the back seat, but as the car lunges forward he--instead of diving into the back seat and tackling Warble as he had planned--slides across the trunk, falls off the far side, and skids over the ground for a few feet before flipping over and then coming to a halt in a heap.
Marvin is not seriously hurt, but nevertheless immediately begins bellowing out for a medal. “I have gone above and beyond the call of duty. I'm not paid to apprehend desperadoes! I put my life on the line; I gave my all. I deserve a raise, demand a bonus, and apply herewith officially and unconditionally for a Purple Heart!”
Mary speeds out of the fruit stand parking lot, jerking the steering wheel violently to the right as she enters the highway. The right rear door, which had been standing open, slams shut--a microsecond after Warble had pulled his legs all the way into the car (and under his chin).
After Mary has stabilized the car--and her respiration to some extent--she turns around to see if Warble is all right. He, too, has now regained his breath, but is still a little dazed. Lying on his side, he props himself up with his left elbow.
“Good work, Mary. We made a clean getaway. I guess you noticed I experienced technical difficulties getting the watermelon back to the car--do you mind if I have a few of your cherries?”
“Help yourself, Warble,” Mary responds, and picks up a carton of the shiny red fruit and starts to hand them back to him.
“Oh, no, leave them where they are--I'm coming up.”
And so he does--by turning around and placing his back to the back of the front passenger seat (so that he's facing out the rear window), and walking on the back seat and headliner so as to go over the seat backwards. When his head comes down and touches the front seat, he twists his body around, using his head as a swivel, somewhat reminiscent of a break-dancer in slow motion, until he is sitting in the passenger seat in the normal fashion.
“Now why did you do it that way?” Mary wants to know.
“Do what what way, Mary?” Warble counters.
Mary sighs. “Why did you climb over the seat backwards?”
“Backwards? Do you mean literally backwards or backwards as in the opposite of the 'normal' way?”
“Both!”
“Well, I did climb over backwards in the literal sense, it's true, but I didn't climb over backwards, in the latter sense, despite what you think.”
“All right, Warble, let me put it to you this way: Why didn't you climb over like a normal person?”
“A normal person? What do you mean by that phrase 'normal person,' Mary? How would you define such an animal, and if you could--if you could identify someone that could be classified as normal, just how would he (or I guess you would say it would be a she) go about climbing over an automobile seat?”
“I've been trying to tell you: Forwards! Frontwards! Head first! She would use her arms to pull herself over head first.”
“Ah, but you see you said 'she.' Maybe it's a 'woman thing'--women climb over forwards, men backwards. Thus, custom on Venus is to go head first, but the custom on Mars is 'DeVille take the hindmost'.”
“DeVille? Cruella, you mean?”
“No, not Cruella! Coup! Coup! Coup DeVille. It's a car--we're talking about climbing around in a car, Mary, don't you--”
“Warble.”
“realize--”
“Warble.”
“what I'm trying to--”
“Warble.”
“tell you--”
“Warble.”
“Warble, Warble, Warble. Enough with the warbling already. What? What?”
“It's not a woman thing. It's a normal everyday average person thing.”
“All right then--if you're so sure of it, then prove it.”
“OK, I will. Do you remember when you were a kid and you climbed over from the back seat to the front?”
“I was never a kid, so I haven't the foggiest idea what you're driving at.”
“You were never a kid?”
“Most definitely not. I have never in my entire life been a goat.”
“Oh, Warble, for cryin' out loud. When you were a child, and you climbed over the seat, did you go over forward or backward?”
“Forward.”
“See?”
“See nothing--I was a kid. It's a 'kid thing'--I mean, 'child thing.' Children go over forwards, adults backwards.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, you just witnessed it--I went over backwards, didn't I?”
“Yes, you most certainly did.”
“Have you seen any adults climb over forwards?”
Mary sees that Warble has her dead to rights there. She hasn't seen any adults climb over either forwards or backwards, except for Warble. She throws her hands into the air, sighs, and shakes her head in exasperation.
Warble thinks she is shaking her head 'no,' though, and thus admitting that he is right. He doesn't rub it in, though. He lets silence reign for a few minutes, then says, “Once we get to Looz-e-anna, call me 'Colonel' and talk real slow.
As much as possible, add a syllable to words to draw them out.”
“Warble, what on earth are you talking about? What sort of syllable, exactly, would you want me to add?”
Warble turns in his seat to explain it to Mary. “It depends on the word--based on the vowel you are elongating. For example, notice how I say 'please pass the corn' in southern: Pleez pay-ess the co-wern. Notice that? Six syllables for the price of four! No wonder the rebs lost the Civil War! By the time orders were relayed, those fast-talking, no-nonsense Yankees had already attacked and sacked Atlanta, Antietem, Asheville, Montgomery, Shiloh, Chickahominy, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and lots of other burgs. The southerners hadn't gotten through their 'howdy-dos' by the time the Yanks were in the saddle, ridin' hard and furious, swift as the wind.”
“Colonel Kernel, you're waxing poetic again,” Mary warns.
“Sorry, my dear,” Warble replies, ignoring Mary's little joke. “Anyway, always break up vowels into two syllables. And since you're in the womenfolk's camp, it wouldn't hurt to bat your eyelashes and act coquettish in any way possible and every way imaginable. And say ‘y'all’ as much as possible. You see, it's like this, Miss Mary--”
“Miss Mary? Warble, honey, you're not Abraham and I'm not Sarah. Are you saying we have to pretend we're not married?”
“No, no,” Warble says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Why are you always jumping to conclusions, Mary? Don't you know that all the women in the South are referred to as Miss so-and-so, and all the men are Colonel what's-his-face? You're Miss Mary Betty Lou Thelma Liz Nieto, and I'll be Colonel Nieto--Colonel N. Cogg Nieto, to be precise.”
“Don't tell me you're going to start walking with a cane and cultivating a goatee now.”
“I may do that, my dear, I may just do that.”
“Oh, brother.”
“Now Mary, I told you, just because you will be bearing the appellation 'Miss' and I the nobiliary particle 'Colonel' doesn't mean that you are to pose as my sister or some such.”
Mary rolls her eyes and lets out an inner sigh, a sigh of the spirit. “Yes, Colonel, anything you say, Colonel,” she says, her eyes on the distant horizon and her jaws set.
“Oh, and another thing, Miss Mary: When in the South, never turn down pralines, pecan pie, moon pies, mint juleps, RC Cola, hush puppies, grits, jambalaya, lemonade, or iced tea. That would be a dead giveaway that you're not a gen-yoo-wine southern Belle.”
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the Wacky Misadventures of Warble McGorkle is being serialized daily here on substack during the summer of 2021 (late June to early September).
NOTE: The second volume is the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle; the third volume (currently in progress, with episodes available on Vella)
is Warble McGorkle’s Delusional Visions of Paradise.
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