Just Call Me Calamity

Just call me Calamity, as my Pa used to say. With four redneck sons and three lovely daughters Pa had his hands full of fightin' off girls after his boys, and boys after his girls. Why, to tell you the truth, I don't know to this day how he did it.

He was a cowboy, for sure, Pa was, and wrangled himself up a pretty little gal that all the fellas loved. Ma and Pa were quite a hot pair on the dance floors in their day.

Of all his kids, I was the one who ran the fastest, climbed the highest, shot the best, rode a horse finer, and tracked better than the rest. Yet I also had a wild side that kept Pa feeling more on edge than a wound-up top on a table with no ledge.

Every where I went he expected some kind of calamity to arise from my shenanigans. And fight! I don't know how many times he pulled me off some boy I had punched down who made fun of me or picked on the little ones.

Pa finally told me, "You my best huntin' partner, gal, but I gotta tell ya...you either have to take some lessons from your Ma on how to be a lady or ya gonna have to get to town and find a cowboy with more courage and fight than whats in you." And that was the end of my days in the wild -- it made me sorta blue.

So, I packed up my few things, Ma gave me some money to buy a pretty dress, and off I went to find a man tougher than me -- one who could tame me and settle me down, so Pa would be proud and let me be.

Well, I got to town and the first thing I did was to watch the gals on what ya call a stage -- dancin' and a kickin', all the men clappin' and shoutin' at them. I thought to myself, "Now that's a good way to wrangle me up a cowboy."

So, with the money Ma gave me, I bought the prettiest dress I could find and got myself all prettied up, fixed my hair in curls high on my head, talked with Miss Kitty at the Long Branch and got myself hired to get up there on that stage and dance for the cowboys. It worked, right fast it worked, too.

Long bout midnight, I was just a dancin' my fool head off, kickin' my legs up higher than the other gals, gettin' more attention, too, when in walks this big cowboy and right up to the stage he come. I took one look at him and I was struck with something I aint nevva felt afore'. "They call me The Saddle," he said and when he lifted me off that stage, all the other gals got in a tizzy and rage. He looked like a guy named Connery.

Well, I had a drink with The Saddle and we hit it off just fine. He called me Darlin' and I knew he could be mine, if'n I could handle him. He was quite popular with the ladies, for sure -- but that didna bother me none, for I knew if I had to, I would do battle and come out on top to win The Saddle.

Well... a right fine lady I had finally become, and dressed the part, too. I was no longer wild and loud -- if Pa could see me now, I know he would be proud. Why I was now what they call 'feminine'. It didna take long though for me to be in a dilemma bout this gettin' me a cowboy... for one day I was a walkin' through town, and there, just gettin' off his horse was a cowboy, name of Wayne Brown. With that beautiful smile and a fine white hat -- now howsa fine young lady gonna pass up that?

So, here I am, now a fine lady ready to settle down -- and I jest can't make up my mind, which will it be? The Saddle or Mr. Brown?

These handsome cowboys a messin' with my brain -- Oh, Pa! -- can I jest come back home and be Calamity again?

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This free verse poem in no way is meant to "butter up" any of the judges of the HubPages Patron Of The Arts Contest - however, if it gives them a little something to giggle about, that's just fine with me -- at this point they may need a good laugh or two! It is not easy to do the job they have right now and my heart goes out to them - literally, especially to The Saddle and Wayne Brown.

© Content Copyright Phyllis Doyle Burns 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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