New Question-Asked and Answered.

Guess what Anna brought me today? A television set for my little apartment here at the rear of the cafe. The last time I watched the boob-tube, I was at the Roadside Palace Motel. That was after I got kicked out of the old-coots home because they didn't like my gardening abilities. Seeing the lights were always on in the activities room, regardless of the inactivity, I planted some of my special 'can of bees' seeds, the same kind I use to make my 'can of butter.'  The plants were fuckin' gorgeous—I have a green thumb—but once they figured out what was growing, they kicked Humphrey (my boyfriend at the time) and me out onto the streets. So, we hightailed it up to the Roadside Palace where I talked the manager into a monthly rate. Well, it was there that we had a TV, but Humphrey was usually the one with the remote. Now, thanks to Anna—bless her cotton pickin' heart—I've got my own tube. She gave me the rabbit ears and all. The whole shebang.

This evenin', when the crowd commenced to scatter, I headed back to my apartment and am just now comin' out. I twisted the dial to an Austin station and there was a show on called American Idol. It's a talent show where people sing. I seen me a girl on there from Katy, Texas. That's down there by Houston, and Houston's only a couple of hours from Prairie Springs. She's got some pipes on her. I tell you what, though. There was only five minutes of show, and it took me a whole fuckin' hour to watch it. I've never seen so many commercials and needless chit-chat. I thought Dorcas was bad about not saying anything, but my Lord! With that said, I'm gonna find out when it comes on again. 

I've got me another question in my letter box. Oh my, this one comes from New York City. I wonder how long it took to get here? The question is: How do you keep your spunk? You might figure this question came from New York City. I don't generally save it. But I hear nowadays, some people are a-freeze'n it. I ain't got no need to keep it around, and honey, to be honest, at my age,  most of the men I'm with ain't got much spunk left. Humphrey, for example—God rest his soul—it was like his penis dry-heaved. 

This is what I like about them big-city folk. They ain't afraid to talk about things, even when it ain't their business. 

In other news, while Anna and Kyle were fixin' up my TV set, I hobbled over to the pharmacy for some corn pads. I slapped one of them little donuts on my corn and the pain eased. I reckon I should go shoe shoppin', but—

Oh sweet Jesus! There's someone at the door. It's late, and I'm here by myself.