Probably A Last Hurrah



Thank you so much for letting Jim Keyworth use the Payson People space for my story, Jan. 6, 2004.

Finally, at last, I've had my 15 minutes of fame. My swan song? Perhaps not! My last hurrah? Probably.

And this "15 minutes of fame" hype lasts only about five minutes with the new immigrants coming into the Rim country; and then you're back down there with the road-kill.

I had several nice phone calls, but one Camp Verde cowboy called and said, "OK, if you're so smart who was the greatest cowboy and rodeo champ whoever lived?"

I replied, "Casey Tibbs taught me to roll Bull Durham, spell the big cuss words correctly, and do the Roman Death Drag."

He spit over the phone: "Lady, I don't like you!"

A softly-voiced gentle-sounding little lady asked if I had known Rudolph Valentino. I had to say "no," but I did confess that I had seen Patrick Swayze's "Dirty Dancing" 37 times.

During another call, I thought the voice sounded familiar. The man asked if I knew using waterdogs for bait was cruel and unnecessary, and that the hooks hurt their sweet little lips. Then, he asked me for money to help raise Hereford calves to feed the Mexican grey wolves that hadn't been released yet. Then, I knew who it was. All I had time to say was "Shut up, Bruce!" before he hung up.

My newest bumper sticker says: "Save the mad cows, eat more possums." Ozark "prime rib!"

Alyce "Richochet Faye" Hicks, Payson

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