Day 206: Hanky Pantry

Lantry is an unincorporated community in South Dakota not too far from Lake Oahe, the large reservoir created by damming the Missouri River. Today’s tour group consisted entirely of fishing enthusiasts who wanted to fish for bass on Lake Oahe, so Laetitia chartered a boat and a guide and they spent the day on the lake. They arrived in Lantry in late afternoon and did a walkabout before going to dinner and their motel. Talking to some of the local residents on the walkabout, Laetitia heard some gossip about a minister who had had to leave town.

Ministers in small towns have a very difficult time, especially if they are young. Some members of their congregation think they work only the hour each week when they are behind the pulpit. Also their lives are under constant scrutiny, and they are often held to a higher standard than other people. Laetitia felt sorry for the minister who was the subject of the gossip, but she wrote the limerick anyway.

White flour handprints on the dress
Of the preacher’s landlady, named Tess,
From a tryst in the pantry
Were a scandal in Lantry
And he soon left town under duress.

Day 155: Hose Nose

Laetitia took her group for a hike in Salt River Canyon. She had hoped that when she finished with California she would leave behind all of those aspiring writers looking for advice, but she was wrong. After a few days’ respite, there was another writer in her group. At least he wasn’t another of those aspiring novelists of the hard-boiled detective school. His novel, in manuscript form, was a western, and since they had just been in the Sonoran Desert, that seemed more appropriate. He began reading:

“Lyin’ Arizona Slim was a thin man—so skinny, folks said, that if he danced around in a rain storm, the drops would miss him—and so tall in the saddle that when he rode ramrod stiff, as he always did, you could see his Stetson over the top of a saguaro cactus. But there was another thing about him that was long and slim and poker-straight—something that women whispered about, especially after the preacher gave his monthly sermon on sin. And that was his nose, which looked like Pinoccio’s and earned him his nickname.”

Laetitia said to the author, “You’re pretty good with bait and switch; you should write limericks.” Just then the van driver drove up to whisk them off to Show Low, where they were spending the night. On the way to their motel, they passed a fast-food stand that seemed to offer more than just fried chicken. It was the source of the limerick of the day.

A young entrepreneur from Show Low
Advertised sex with food on the go
His ad said breasts and thighs
Along with French fries
Could be had at his drive-up window.