Saturday

My daddy always told me they called Saturday 'Saturday' because a long time ago at church on Sunday, people'd ask what you did yesterday, and they'd respond, "I sat fur a day." Over the years, it got shortened to Saturday. Monday came about from people moanin' about goin' back to work, so they just called it moan day. Well, today's Saturday and I'm doin' anything but sittin' down. I'm as busy as a whore on dollar night. A bus load of young people stopped in—To me they're young, probably in their sixties. They're on a tour of town squares in Texas. Dudn't sound too excitin' to me, since they all look pretty much the same, but my motto is, "If it floats your boat, don't shoot a hole in it." 

Luciano's been helpin' out, and the old ladies love him. It's always a good day 'round here when nobody falls down the three steps that go into the seatin' area. Ivory Black took a stumble there one day and bruised her rear end, but this bus load of retired folks were careful steppers. Luciano helped a few with their drinks so they could hold on to the banister. 

Anyhoo, they're all safely in their seats now and I got me a querstion. Finally! 

Esmatu in Africa wants to know my bank account number so she can wire me some money. Esmatu says I have an unclaimed inheritance. While I'm new to this machine writin' thing, I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday. So Esmatu, dear, I don't have a bank account, but I do have me a loaded shotgun under the counter. Would you like to come for some coffee?