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Frank Cotolo
October 16, 2014 |
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My rodeo clown work at The Rootin' Tootin' Wildcat Rope and Revolver Rodeo lasted for what seemed to
be an eternity. After a while all of the towns where we stopped to perform looked the same and
smelled the same and all of them had a gal who lived there that was a lot like Ginger.
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I met my first Ginger in a small town somewhere east of Hooston, Texas. Not Huston, Hooston. It's a
little dump of a place that even Texans don't like, so they leave it off of all the official maps
they print. Ginger of Hooston was a template for all the other Gingers. She was thin yet busty,
pretty and perky, with an IQ of a marshmallow and skin just as soft.
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When I began dating the first Ginger I had no idea that this type of gal was going to become a
franchise, so I didn't pay much attention to anything but her severe hunger for companionship.
Instead, I focused on her quirks. She had more quirks than a beaver in a bowl of spumoni.
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The night of our first date she said she had never gone out with a rodeo clown and asked me to
recite the history of rodeo clowns and name a dozen famous ones before she allowed me to paint her
breasts with margarine (she always carried a few sticks in her purse). I made up the history and
clown names because I knew she would not go to the library the next day to discover if I lied.
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All the Gingers had quirks. One Ginger I dated in the Midwest had a penchant for riding her bike
with her pajamas on fire. Another Ginger I dated somewhere wore a holster; only a holster. Some
Ginger I met in the Deep South swore to me that she learned to kiss by practicing with a St. Jude
bobble head. Still another Ginger I dated said she only dated rodeo clowns and then they had to be
the kind that would enjoy rebuilding rotary blades in the dark (that was a short date).
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All the Gingers, as I said, were hungry for companionship and I figured that was why they were so
quirky. The Rootin' Tootin' Wildcat Rope and Revolver Rodeo psychologist told me that people who
crave companionship often develop habits that take the place of an absence of a relationship with
someone who pays attention to them. When I told this to a Ginger in Missouri she disagreed
politely, then she began to poke my left testicle with a Phillips-head screwdriver she had hidden
in her sleave.
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