Good Carl Takes Me To Task

I haven't told you about the man I like to call Good Carl yet, mostly because it's hard to adequately describe him if I can't replicate his booming Texas drawl. Regardless, he's one of the funniest people I've ever met, and I fully expect him to come out the champion of my planned "Texas Bullshittin' and Story-Tellin' Hootenanny". (that title needs some work)

Last week, I was talking to Billy, one of my gun teachers/friends, about some problems I was having with Dot's school. Good Carl was standing at the gun rack, fondling the shotguns, listening to me.

"Now Rebel, you know Ah love ya darlin', and Ah hate ta interrupt your conversation with this gentlemen, but we got ta get somethin' straight. This here is a pawn shop, and pawn shops are where men like ta hang out and talk about men things. That means you cain't be talkin' about shit like this. In a man's place, you got ta talk about fast women and hot guns. That's all. Now, you're ruinin' the atmosphere. If Ah wanted to hear this shit, Ah could go home and talk ta ma wife. Ah don't wanna do that, and that's why Ah'm here with you."