Slim Randles
“Hot? Did you say hot?”
“Sure did, Windy, have a seat and join us,” said Doc. We were huddled up in the coolth of the air conditioner blast in that certain part of the dining room at the Mule Barn truck stop. Yes. It was hot.
“Ain’t like Death Valley, howsomever,” Windy said. “Now boys, that there’s HOT!”
“You been to Death Valley, Windy?”
“Shore did, Steve. Wellsir, it was a long time back, ‘bout the time of when I ferget who was president. One of them guys who ain’t president any more. But I was jest percolatin’ ‘round and got me this here wranglin’ job over there at Furnace Crick. Hot? Say, it was so hot it melted your whiskers! But they needed these dudes wrangled and I packed mules for ‘em … until the accident …”
“Accident?”
“Oh Doc, it was terrible. One day I was packin’ pic-a-nic supplies for ‘em, and I had me eight mule loads of that Jiffy Pop popcorn, you know … ‘cuz they liked popcorn, ya see. Wellsir, it were so danged hot that popcorn started a-poppin’ inside them cans, and it flat blew the lids off them cans. Right out there in the dang desert …”
Windy paused a moment to wipe away a tear.
“And that there popcorn went all over the ground … and … and them mules saw it and thought it was snow … and froze to death!”
