The Eyes of Texas Were Upon Me
When we first met it almost never got off the ground. We were just talking, me being smooth and virile, and her being an adult. She asked me when my birthday was. July third I told her. She got real pale and things got real quiet. The temperature in the room dropped 20 degrees. It turns out that I have the exact same birthday as her ex-husband. How thoughtless of me to pick the same day of the year to be born. It’s not my fault.
We got past that, and she has finally come to the realization that, fate being what it is, she only marries men born on July third. I’ve told her that if this marriage doesn’t work out her next in line is Tom Cruise. My wife is 5′ 2″. Tom Cruise is about what – 3 feet tall? I figure I’m safe.
Of course, my wife says that she no longer believes in divorce. She now believes in mysterious circumstances.
The first time I went down to Texas to meet the family was a thrill. I met her brother Chris. Nice guy. He works in a prison. He works in a TEXAS prison. He makes Chuck Norris look like a ballerina. I wasn’t there an hour when he suggested that he and I take a ride in his car – a long ride – a long, long ride.
We’re going along and he’s not saying a word, just glaring at me like I just ran over his favorite hunting dog. No smiles, no jokes, nothing. After about an hour or so, we are down by the waterfront in Corpus Christi, Texas. There’s nothing there but oil tanks and long, dusty access roads. No people, just the odd armadillo.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sweating like Rosie O’Donnell in the buffet line at Caesar’s Palace. Its 105 degrees with no AC. Finally, I turn to him and say, “So – are we just looking for a place to dump the body or what?” He pulls over, looks me square in the eye and says, “Maybe ‘Yes’, maybe ‘No” – Yankee.”
I’m really starting to sweat now. I figure I’ve got about 8 seconds to win this guy over or I am Texas toast. 8 seconds – the length of a winning rodeo bull ride. And 8 seconds of championship bull is what I need to avoid almost certain death. I look right at him and let fly:
“I love your sister. Remember the Alamo. God Bless Willie Nelson. Pass the hot sauce. Oh, the Yellow Rose of Texas is where I want to be. I love your sister. Hook ‘em horns! Could I have another piece of pie? The eyes of Texas are upon you! My, what a fine piece of horseflesh. I love your sister. Are you ready for some football? Yee-Haw!”
He looks me up and down, spits out his gum and says, “Welcome to the Family.”