A Reporter At Large

What had happened was… By Ronny Ray Rawlings
You may have heard abou me leavings my 2 year old son in my Dodge hemi truck yesterday. Yeah, the authorities got all up in arms abou dat. Hell don know why e’rybody’s up in arms over a kid in a car for 4 hours. I routinely leaves my dog in der for days, he practiclly sleeps der. I gots moms all over me now, but unfortunately dis time they donts want me for my body. Actually I left my boy in der for a reason, see I ain never done dat on purpus. What had happened was… as I gots outta my hemi I was roundin the corner to open the door for my son, Ray Ronny (I’s calls him RaR, cuz I thinks he gon be ferocious like a tiger, like Tony the Tiger). But as I was turnin the corner I felt this bulge in my belly. Then I burpt, but dat was followed quickly wit one a dem farts dat you blow off, literally. See I didn hear nothing, no boom, so I was alarmed (its one dem silent but violent ones). Sure nuff I felt a lil wetness in my drawers. So I immeditly ran to inta the grocery store, craddlin my butt in case, to go number 2. Fortunately, alls the stalls was taken, so I treated myself to the aptly equip cripples toilet, you know the ones wit the extra room and handle bars so you can git some thrust action goin. I plop my cheeks to the porcelin witout noticin that the last cripple didn’t have the cortesy to flush. I goes anyways. It piled up fast. Next thing I know, der aint no TP. I bang on the next stall an luckly he tosses me some dat 1 ply. Afters I git out, I smell some brauts bein cooked over by the delicatessen. So I scurried over der likes a wabbit. I grabbed some baked Lays ‘fores I got der. Darn near had me a feast. Den I heard my tummy rumblins again. I felts this trickling sensation down my leg. Uh-oh, boy do I knows dat feeling, I remembers that time at my brother, Al Bob, son’s football game while I was standing in line for a Biffy, ironic idinit, well from der I ont wann talk about it. Buts I picked up some a dat fancy TP, Charmin and ran to shitter again. I jumped into the cripples stall again and relieved my concentrated anger inta dat der oval. The bearings on dat sucker damn near broke off. Next to me though, I herd this wail from the most manly of mans. He was my opposite; he was severely constapated. Lo an behold, it was my good friend Terry Needles. He needed somethin to hold onta, you to git soma dat thrust action I tellin you abou earlier. I reached under inta his stall wits my arm, so he could get some levrige. Dat didn work. I’s done an so was he (if yous wantin ter know he couldn go). I told Terry I’s still hongry. Der’s we go back to the braut stand. We’s got thirsty so we goes to the 3/2 section, gets some brews to go wit our lunch yer know. So we start gettin inter dis conversation abou the origins of languages and stuffs. We talked abou like why red is call’ red? An why we greets each other wits how ares you? You know like physiological stuff like dat. You know I bets they ain gonna teach my boy RaR musins like dat in school. See Terry an I’s gettin deep until “Jerry the Manager” (sissy fatso fya as me) come buttin in. He accuses us of freeloadin on dem samples right dat der at the braut sample aisle. He says we needs to leave asap. C’mon now, we got our brauts an walked round the store an den came back as new samplers yer see. We wasn freeloadin. Dats when I noticed RaR in my hemi an police ders an stuff. Lights an crowds of denizens almoss havin me seizurin. Now dats What Had Had Happened an dats the truff ya hear!