Despite this ill-advised early publicity shot, the automotive industry still managed to gain traction. In the background, Henry Ford curses the day he decided to hire family members in the promotions department just to keep the peace during holiday gatherings. He turns in disgust, ready to slink away, when he suddenly realizes that the spokes-cousins have forgotten to turn off their primitive microphone in between floor shows. Naturally, he decides to eavesdrop, because this is America, where apparently other people’s business is your own.
Vidalia, left: “I hate this stupid car. There ain’t enough room up in there for me to get my long gun hitched up right when I want to shoot me some buffalo.”
Flatsy, middle: “Well, you know how cousin Henry is, with all his patent things, makin’ things harder than they have to be. He’s just bitter cuz he didn’t come from the pretty side of the family like we did.”
Nutella, right: “Yeah, they come up with some butt-ugly kids on that side of the tree, pure root rot. My momma says it’s cuz great-great Uncle Tobias kept his clan holed up in the Shady Pines and never let nobody come into town. I bet you there was a lotta cross-breedin’. No wonder cousin Henry has that twitch.”
Vidalia: “I hear that ain’t the only thing don’t work right with him. I hear he got a tiny distributor cap, if you know what I mean.”
Flatsy: “What do you know about distributor caps? Word at my house is you like intake valves and you never wear any drawers.”
Nutella: “Now, Flats, ain’t nothin’ wrong with people bein’ fond of different parts. I been known to look under different hoods in my day. But that ain’t the problem. The problem is that cousin Henry makes us work for a livin’. He’s got tons more money than he needs. You see any Vanderbilts whorin’ themselves at this here auto show? No, you don’t. They’re all at the country club, suckin’ on sloe gins and gettin’ their feet rubbed. That’s where we should be.”
Vidalia: “Wait, you tellin’ me that we got Vanderbilt kind of money? Well, don’t that beat all.”
Flatsy: “We ain’t go nuthin, Vi. He thinks just cuz he made all that money that he don’t have to share. That ain’t right, him thinkin’ we should do our part. He’s already got the money, why we gotta do anything? With my beauty, I shouldn’t be plunkin’ my ass on a sideboard. I should be off yonder in Hollywood, makin’ love to Mr. Ramon Navarro on the silver screen.”
Nutella: “That’s just terrible, Flats. I can’t believe cousin Henry is keepin’ you from the hump of your dreams. It makes me so mad I just want to spit.”
Cousin Henry did not want to spit. But he was mad. And he was suddenly looking very forward to the family gathering on the Fourth of July in a few days. He was about to announce a new business plan, one that would streamline production even further, mainly be eliminating the nepotism, even if it resulted in fewer Christmas cards in December. Because this is America, where your own business is more important than other people…
Previously published. Modified slightly for this post. I dragged this mess out of the archives based solely on the “Fourth of July in a few days” reference. At least it appears timely, even though it isn’t.
By the way, we have a friend visiting us this week. (Said long-time friend is known as “Bubbles” for those of you who used to follow me on “The Sound and the Fury” and thankfully tagged along when I shifted blogging platforms.) This means we will be busy doing the limited number of things we can do in once-again locked-down Texas. (Hmm, did you jump the gun and re-open too soon, Governor Abbott? Of course you did, you shameless Trumpster hack.) This also means you’ll see mostly repeats this week, but I’ll try to pick the more obscure bits that most folks haven’t seen. Like this one. Cheers.
Categories: Past Imperfect