Cousin Fred and I hit the road...and the road hits back

Happy Hump Day everyone…and to my fellow veterans, Happy Veterans Day. Please take time today to hug a vet, shake their hand, thank them for their service, or throw a leg over them (hehe).

I was in full-tilt boogie scramble yesterday, trying to get packed after receiving a phone call from Cousin Fred around mid-morning. He called to inform me that he had finally made contact with an actual Hollywood-type producer who is interested in our ideas for a reality show and actually wants to meet with us!

Cousin Fred’s excitement was contagious as I spoke with him over the phone. Then, the reality began to set in. What follows is the actual phone conversation:

Me: Wait, so what idea is this producer interested in? I don’t recall that we came up with anything firm.

CF: Well, I told him about our idea for “Art in Pubic Places”…he seemed to like that a lot. And then I told him about to putting naked Bigfoot hunters out into the field, which he didn’t get at first. Then I told him that all of those other Bigfoot shows have it all wrong. Our idea is for people hunting Bigfoot to be naked just like him. That way Bigfoot’s more likely to find the hunters.

Me: Huh? Where did the Bigfoot thing come from? We never talked about that. And why is it that the only ideas we can come up with for a reality show involve people getting naked and doing something irretrievably stupid?

CF: Cousin, that was my version of a spur of the moment kind of idea. You think I’ve just been sitting around the house doing nothing after you banished me from the Compound? No sir, I’ve been thinking! I’ve also been dialing through the numbers in that Hollywood Creative Guide I bought. It took forever, but I finally found someone who didn’t hang up on me. And, besides, naked sells on TV. It’s the dawn of a new age in television. We’re pioneers, I’m telling you. A couple of Ed Sullivans, we are. I’m taking a page from Japanese game shows. They do all sorts of outrageous things on TV over there. It’s the next big thing!

Me: Uh huh…I see. You know, I didn’t so much banish you, as get you out of the Wife’s sight. She’s calmer now. I guess the unfiltered smokes and whiskey help. So what’s the next step?

CF: He wants to meet with us in Vegas, baby! He and his trusty assistant producer are going to be there while trying to sign a guy who wants to make a reality show out of robbing casinos.

Me: Uh huh…and is this guy going to rob casinos naked?

CF: I don’t know, but that’s a brilliant idea! Maybe if Chick likes it, he’ll give us a piece of that show as creative consultants. That would be great TV!

Me: Not to mention a felony. So, who’s Chick?

CF: Chick Farris, he’s the head of Mountebank Productions Unlimited.

Me: Mountebank? Seriously?

CF: I know, what a coincidence huh?

Me: Ummmm…did you check this guy out?

CF: No time for that, Cousin. We have to strike with the iron is sizzling hot! We’re supposed to meet with Chick and his able assistant producer on Thursday morning.

Me: Thursday morning?! Vegas is probably 1,000 miles from here. Even under great driving conditions we’re probably looking at fourteen hours.

CF: I know, I figure we can leave really early Wednesday morning. We’ll be fine.

Me: Okay, but you better get your ass over here from Arkansas. When are you leaving?

CF: I’ve already left.

Me: Okay, when will you get here?

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

CF: I’m here!

Sure enough, there he was. On my doorstep, bag in hand, wearing a painfully bright yellow t-shirt emblazoned with “Viva Las Vegas” and weird 70s-retro aviator sunglasses with yellow lenses. He looked like some kind of deranged hepatic nightmare.

But, that’s Cousin Fred.

The Wife and I were scheduled to have dinner and a few beers with the Sister and the Brother-in-law at Charlie’s in Gage last night. So, of course, I couldn’t not take Cousin Fred along.

Let me tell you, friends, it was a long evening. The Wife was already in a foul mood brought on by Cousin Fred’s unexpected arrival. The Sister is still pissed about the variety of the Brother-in-law's fishing boats now half-buried in the ground (like that weird Cadillac Ranch near Amarillo) to the north of the Compound after a fistful of maritime mishaps on Lake Mountebank back in the spring and summer. All of which the Sister still blames on Cousin Fred. She was burning holes through Cousin Fred with her eyes, her finger on the “911” speed dial button on her phone ready to summon local law enforcement and have Cousin Fred dragged off into the night. The Brother-in-law pulled the visor of his cap down low over his eyes choosing to deny Cousin Fred’s presence and avoiding the Sister’s glares.

Cousin Fred seemed rather nonchalant about it all. He kept asking the Brother-in-law if he wanted to make the trip to Vegas, baby! The Brother-in-law made furtive glances in the direction of the Sister and kept muttering something about building an addition onto the pig house he completed yesterday for the Nephew’s prized porcines.

I noticed then that the Wife was chugging whiskey from a flask in her purse before lighting up an unfiltered cigarette while humming “My Philadelphia Home.”

At that point, the Sister started a new direction for the conversation, asking if anyone else remembered the show “Deadwood.”

There was general acknowledgment around the table that we all had in fact seen the show when it ran several years ago.

I started to mention that I thought the show was brilliantly written with very compelling characters, not sure exactly what the Sister had in mind. She was still staring down Cousin Fred.

The Sister was next to speak as she put a hand on the Brother-in-law’s shoulder, “Remember how when they killed someone on that show, they would drop the body in a pig pen and the pigs disposed of the evidence?”

“Check, please!”