Lassie, Come Home!

It occurred to me (only after receiving a hate email from a fan who pointed out that I need to work on my story continuity) that I’ve never actually told any of you faithful readers how our meetings with Chick Farris and his trusty aide in Vegas, baby! turned out.
 
Guess I was in such a state following a tumultuous few days after our return, what with the Junior Brown show, preparing for the Statehood Day program, Cousin Fred’s Land Run reenactment, an evening of November tornadic activity (they were getting uncomfortably close to the compound) and then my having to bail Cousin Fred out.
 
Yeesh…what a week! Makes me want to crawl back into bed and hide for a couple of days. But noooooooooo…tumultuosity is spinning again!
 
Ohhhh…there I go again, moving off course. So, the meeting with Chick went very well. He liked Cousin Fred’s idea for a reality show where naked realitors (actual Hollywood term) go off in search of Bigfoot.
 
According to Mr. Broadcast Television, it has everything. Monsters (Bigfoot), nudity (Bigfoot and the Realitors), and spine-tingling adventure. Epic television, Chick called it!
 
Chick “greenlighted” Cousin Fred and I to produce a roughcut pilot for him to see as long as it doesn’t cost him any money to do so. So, of course, me thinking this is it…my ship is finally pulling into port with all of the holes plugged with chewing gum…I sat up late last night switching between QVC and HSN to see where I could get the best deal on a digital video camera.
 
Between the cost of the camera and accoutrements that you simply have to have when shooting a roughcut pilot for television…oh and lightning shipping (figure there’ll be a drone bombing the compound with my camera around noon), I only had to siphon a small percentage of my 401K to fund the purchase. Hopefully, I can convince the IRS this was an emergency.
 
Assuming the equipment does arrive today via drone bombardment, Cousin Fred and I are planning to hit the road again next week to shoot our pilot. The only question is, where do we shoot the darned thing?
 
A quick check of Bigfoot sightings showed a big fat ZERO for sightings in Woodward County, so I guess locally we’re toast. There was one sighting down near Lawton, but I figured that was more likely a meth head living under a bridge along Deer Creek.  There have been a few sightings in the southeast part of Oklahoma, but that would have meant getting there via Illinois given Cousin Fred’s restraining order.
 
That left us with going west. I guess there’s New Mexico with its wide open vistas and more landscape artists and burned out hippies per capita than anywhere else in the world.  
 
Finally, we’ve set our sights on Colorado. There have numerous sightings in the Rockies, plus with that state’s new relaxed marijuana laws we’re more likely to find “talent” willing to strip naked and walk through mountainous woods at night in late fall. Plus, it’s far enough outside of the restraining order so as to keep HRH’s personal phalanx of state troopers at bay.
 
We’re planning to leave Monday, but there’s a complication…isn’t there always?
 
Yesterday morning I come out of the house to raise my new giant flag (it can be seen from space and Sarah Palin’s porch). I look over at Hellkat One’s trailer and see Cousin Fred’s topless Bronco. I dropped him at the impound lot after I bailed him out. My suggestion then was that he head back to western Arkansas, but he pointed out we have a pilot to produce.
 
I was glad to see he made it back to the compound in good shape. Obviously, he’s inside the 200 mile restriction of his restraining order, but I figure if I can keep him out of sight and out of trouble, we’ll be okay.
 
As I’m standing there contemplating all of that, I see Cousin Fred emerge from the trailer wearing a pair of boxer shorts and an open robe. He’s pulling at a rope or something. It’s a leash! Out from the trailer comes the friggin’ goat! Yes, the Hefner Canal goat that he stole to make his Land Run reenactment! We’re doomed!
 
As I was about to ask WTF?, he saw me and waved. “Morning, Cousin! A bit nippley out, ain’t it?”
 
According to Cousin Fred, when he got to the impound lot the goat was in the passenger seat and refused to move. He said the impound driver told him that they gave up trying to get the goat out of the vehicle. So they just towed the Bronco off, goat and all.
 
Cousin Fred said he took it as a sign and drove back to the compound with the goat.
 
Great…now what am I supposed to do? The Wife, who was pleased at the thought that she would be rid of Cousin Fred and me next week was not so pleased at the prospect of having the goat, which Cousin Fred is now calling Lassie, around.
 
I called the Nephew, who seems to have a particular fondness for having oddball animals around his place, to see if he would be interested in housing a goat. The Brother-in-law even offered to build a goat shelter on the Nephew’s place if he agreed to take Lassie in. In the end, the Nephew’s Wife said no more oddball animals around the place!
 
When I caught the wife on her cell phone calling every BBQ place in Cosmic City to see if they would be interested in a fresh, chocolate donut fed goat named Lassie, I knew (again) that I was doomed.
 
So, Cousin Fred and I are off on a new adventure next week to the Colorado Rockies with a pile of video equipment, a mere hint of a concept, and a goat named Lassie.
 
It’s gonna be great! You’ll see!