Here comes Winston

Howdy, the name’s Winston. I don’t think my introduction was necessary for I have become famous for my successful rocking chair business.

I know what you’re thinking, Winston must be living the dream because he lives in a cottage, owns a duck cane, and has a wife. Wrong! The cottage gives me splinters, the duck cane keeps quaking, and Ruth keeps breathing.

BleuRose is a friend of mine. When I was drafted in the military in 1924, two days after Myron shot me, I met BleuRose down by the speakeasy (if Ruth asks, it was at the library). She amazed me with her wit. Unlike Ruth’s viola, I could listen to BleuRose sing for hours.

Enough about BleuRose, readers should get to know the voice in their head while they read this. I was born in Ohio, but I moved to Oregon, the best state to ever be founded. I’m allergic to flowers, lint, and the “f” (achoo) key of the window browser keyboard. Don’t you dare ask, yes, Ruth is the old lady in the Wendy’s commercial, it’s all she ever talks about. Ruth isn’t the worst image to be placed upon the black and white screen. Girl scout cookies have transformed into pixels on the television, as if I couldn’t escape those girls enough! Now a man can’t scroll the channels to see his own rocking chair ad anymore.

Love and Hate from the West. – Winston

P.S. If you long to read more than the weekly updates, check out my window browser at or search The Life of 89 year old Youngsters.


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