Gold Plated Garbage TruckChapter 9: When The Fat Woman Sings free porn video
Not long after we got back from our tour, Bessymae Jeffords came by the Buck Horn and had a beer or six. She stands just about six feet even and weighs an easy two-fifty. She can pitch hay with the best men out in the fields and will work alongside anybody all day and never falter one iota of an inch. She has this big moon face and a loving smile that lights up the whole out of doors. He heart is big and her kindness knows no bounds. But she also scares the hell out of all the men in Humper County. Most guys find it kind of intimidating to have a woman that can whup your ass in arm wrestling and then go home and bake a prize-winning cake and never break either a sweat or break wind.
Homer was whanging away on a tin guitar that he found somewhere. The dam' thing was made all out of steel and galvanized sheet metal. That meant it had the harsh sound of an old whore's orgasm. But he was bound and determined that he was going to make music on it and he wanted me to write a song or two to go with it. I was working on a "she done him wrong and was he pissed about it" song that I felt would satisfy Homer and I thought it would sound right to be accompanied by that ugly guitar.
Business had become so good Walt hired a new bartender named Buck Riley that I got real nervous to be around. Every time Homer made a clinker-discord-sound, He would give a dirty look up at the stage behind the bar. Buck stands six feet six in his socks and has all the shape of a Brahma bull. I mean that old boy looked as mean as a pissed off badger on his good days. He kept serving Bessymae every time her glass was almost empty. She was off in a blue world of her own and didn't notice the great service she was getting.
Finally, after trying to get his attention and failing, I stepped down off the stage and went over and helped myself to a beer and said hi to Bessymae on my way by. "Hi Wilbur," she said and I stopped and asked her what was wrong.
The beers were starting to get to her a little bit and she answered with the whole truth. "Wilbur, I'm big as an ox and twice as ugly. No man in his right mind would even look twice at me." She looked down at her glass of beer and than back up at me and said, "God dammit. I am so fucking lonely I could cry." Which she started to do with great hiccuping sobs. Tears ran down her face and she grabbed me and began to cry on my shoulder. I felt like I was being held by a vice.
"You know that song you been writin' to go with that un-natural guitar he's playin' up there?" I nodded and tried to get loose from her grip. My back was starting to hurt.
"Well let me tell you, I can sing it as good as you can. You didn't know I can sing, did you? Well, I can." she let go my body, grabbed my arm and half drug, half carried me back up on the stage. I was barely able to grab my beer on the way.
Smart assed Homer watched her bring me along like she was a big old tow truck and I was a little sports car. He got this smirk on his face and started to play "The Elephant Walk." She ignored him and shoved me back down on the stool I usually sit on when we're doing afternoon practice.
She looked over at Homer and said, "Play that song you been playin' all afternoon. I'm goin' to sing it for Wilbur here."
Oh, you should have seen the looks that chased each other all over Homer's face. There was that grin as he watched me get manhandled up onto the stage, then the look of "what's goin' to happen next?" Then amazement at her for telling him what to play and finally a great big grin of disbelief when she announced she was going to sing.
"Why sure, little lady." He cackled. He didn't seem to realize that if she decided he was laughing at her, they might have to pull that guitar out of his ass.
But where music was concerned, the second he started to strum out the melody, his face got that far away look and all bull shit ceased. That's when I almost fell off my stool. I expected to hear a half drunk moose splutter and slur through a few words and give up. Man was I wrong.
"Why can't we be lovers again? I need much more than a friend. You cheated on me and it tore me apart. Oh please be my lover again. Let's be sweethearts just one more time..." She sang it all the way through and I mean she sang it. There was a hint of the booze in her voice. Her tongue was a little thick. I doubt that anyone else would even have caught it. Her voice was a deep alto/contralto. It put me in mind of a cello being played by a master. The next part had been written in a higher key, for Emily. Emily has a voice that ranges from alto to mezzo-soprano and then on up to high soprano. This bull moose of a woman had a range that matched my Darling sweet Emily all the way. Where Em's voice was pure, sweet, bell like sounds, Bessymae's voice was filled with warm rich resonance.
Homer got up from his stool across the stage and came over and asked her if she would sing a few other songs. "Yup, she hiccuped. But I got to sit down or I'll throw up." I got out of the way and she sat on my stool. She and Homer began doing some old blue grass numbers. Trail Of The Lonesome Pine was followed by Creole Love Call and Wind In The Mountains. Son of a bitch, but she was good.
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