Le Chateau CycleDog
What you are about to read is actually true, except for those parts that were simply made up. Names, places, and facts have been changed just for the hell of it.
Steve over on DFW P2P opined that perhaps I was re-locating Chateau CycleDog further south, like south of the Red River into Texican territory. I'm sorry if any of you were confused by that scurrilous rumor. Nothing could be further from the truth. Given the CycleDog clan's long and storied history here in Oklahoma, we would be loathe to leave the ancestral lands and journey to new ones, especially in Texas.
This is the familial manse originally erected by Clan CycleDog in the early days, just after we'd arrived here in the New World about 900 years ago. Oh, you thought it was Columbus who discovered America! Wrong. It was us. We traveled here from parts of northern and eastern Europe in an effort to escape the marauding Huns and Vikings. It was only partly successful. The bloody Vikings followed us here as can be seen from the rune stones they left behind.
Rune stone near Heavener, Oklahoma. Really.
It was tough in the early days, but my ancestors adapted to the harsh life by inventing hot tubs and air condidtioning. Almost immediately afterward, they discovered iced alcoholic beverages with chunks of fruit and little umbrellas on top. Their's was a hard scrabble existence.
But then all these other people showed up. First, Native Americans arrived, followed by waves of palefaces, including Yankees, refugees from Arkansas, and the odd alien from outer space, though in all honesty, the latter are more greenish than pale.
Naturally enough, like all conquerers they wanted to change the names of everything. Rustic but original place names, like Rocky Flat or Dead Horse Creek, gave way to frou-frou names as the invaders plunked down endless expanses of subdivisions. Prairie Village became Stonebridge Mansions. Buckingham Limited grew atop the old Cow Flop Flats. Stinky Creek became Nouveau Esprit. The list gets longer, more pretentious, and more depressing every year. I can't wait to see what they do next to the Superfund site up by Collinsville. That'll take some imagination.
Still, it can be fun to mess with these new names and the kind of people who like them. I was walking down the street a few days ago when a woman in a car stopped and asked, "Excuse me, sir, but how do I get to Nottingham Woods?"
"Oh, that's easy," I replied. "You just stay on this road until you reach Ye Olde Sexe Shoppe, and then turn right. But if you reach the Marquis de Sade Book Store and Smut Emporium, you've gone too far...or maybe not." I grinned.
Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide. Tires squealed as she did a u-turn and headed out of town at double the speed limit.
Damn foreigners.
Steve over on DFW P2P opined that perhaps I was re-locating Chateau CycleDog further south, like south of the Red River into Texican territory. I'm sorry if any of you were confused by that scurrilous rumor. Nothing could be further from the truth. Given the CycleDog clan's long and storied history here in Oklahoma, we would be loathe to leave the ancestral lands and journey to new ones, especially in Texas.
This is the familial manse originally erected by Clan CycleDog in the early days, just after we'd arrived here in the New World about 900 years ago. Oh, you thought it was Columbus who discovered America! Wrong. It was us. We traveled here from parts of northern and eastern Europe in an effort to escape the marauding Huns and Vikings. It was only partly successful. The bloody Vikings followed us here as can be seen from the rune stones they left behind.
Rune stone near Heavener, Oklahoma. Really.It was tough in the early days, but my ancestors adapted to the harsh life by inventing hot tubs and air condidtioning. Almost immediately afterward, they discovered iced alcoholic beverages with chunks of fruit and little umbrellas on top. Their's was a hard scrabble existence.
But then all these other people showed up. First, Native Americans arrived, followed by waves of palefaces, including Yankees, refugees from Arkansas, and the odd alien from outer space, though in all honesty, the latter are more greenish than pale.
Naturally enough, like all conquerers they wanted to change the names of everything. Rustic but original place names, like Rocky Flat or Dead Horse Creek, gave way to frou-frou names as the invaders plunked down endless expanses of subdivisions. Prairie Village became Stonebridge Mansions. Buckingham Limited grew atop the old Cow Flop Flats. Stinky Creek became Nouveau Esprit. The list gets longer, more pretentious, and more depressing every year. I can't wait to see what they do next to the Superfund site up by Collinsville. That'll take some imagination.
Still, it can be fun to mess with these new names and the kind of people who like them. I was walking down the street a few days ago when a woman in a car stopped and asked, "Excuse me, sir, but how do I get to Nottingham Woods?"
"Oh, that's easy," I replied. "You just stay on this road until you reach Ye Olde Sexe Shoppe, and then turn right. But if you reach the Marquis de Sade Book Store and Smut Emporium, you've gone too far...or maybe not." I grinned.
Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide. Tires squealed as she did a u-turn and headed out of town at double the speed limit.
Damn foreigners.
Labels: humor, oklahoma, rune stone
posted by Ed W at 3:34 PM
3 Comments:
I salute a master craftsman. Hmm, methinks he doth protest too much about moving to the proper side of the Red River...
You forgot to mention Okie Faux-Pretense -- there's a mobile home park near the Missouri border north of Tulsa called "Pomme de Terre Estates."
I didn't know about that trailer park, Fritz! Now I'm going to have to get photos.
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