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The Deepest Kind of Trouble
Ya know those evenins', when the sky looks gray and everything around ya is dark, cept' for the few bits near ya that are lit up by somethin', then they look gray. Well, It was on one of these strange evenins' that my, well, you could call him my partner--you see we was the best of the young troublemakers in town. I would say the best of all troublemakers in town, but well, that goes to a couple a ol' geezers, which, is an entirely differunt story for another time. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, gray evenins'. It was on wun of these evenins' that my friend Jim came to me with one of his women problems-- knowin' Jim for years, I knew first-hand that there was more to it than what he was bout' to tell me.
"Cody, don't you go gettin' mixed up with the women round' here--they're trouble."
"What's Maedeen done this time?" I asked.
"Why, a woman like that..." he seemed fire enough that all the words were burnt away. "She-she's... well, what does a woman like that do? I'll tell ya' what women like that do! They're full of lies is what they are! You bring em' yur best smile, and do yur best to git, well, civilized, and what do they do?
They ignore ya' that's what!
They act all sweet, honey-like, and you fall right into their big blue eyes like yur Momma's pancakes!
Ya do yer best ta be on time, all punctual-like and what do ya get?
You have to wait at least half an hour for them to git all purty-like! And then what do they do?
They bat them long eyelashes of theirs and say they'res sorry fur' keepin' you waitin'.
Oh! And then there's they git all angry at ya fur no good reason! You say one little thing--and that's all it takes! They hit ya on the arm--which really does nothin' but make ya mad--and then they walk ahead a ya!
You can't drive too fast, else they'll start screamin'--which really is a funny thing at first, til' they make ya pull over and let them walk home alone. A course, then yous start feelin' guilty and you see their perty, sad selves walkin' away, so you go after them.
Now, I'll tell ya' somethin' about women--it's never over with em'."
"So what did Maedeen do this time?"
"Women," he spat the word, "women like that are real trick-like. I'll tell ya what they do. Women like that..."
"Marry men like that." Now, this wasn't my voice that Jim heard that night. This was the soft, feminine voice of Maedeen.
What the heart of the conflict was I never really did find out. All I knows is that Jim and Maedeen had many more fights like that, and I was the one to hear about em'.