Roswell Livestock Auction
 
  Unregistered Bull
Choice gleanings from 45-plus years of Unregistered Bull
The traveler in the parked car laboriously pulled himself up from the seat. He stretched his stiff legs, shivered, and looked at his watch. Six a.m. Again he fumbled for a cigarette and looked around him. What a town, he thought. What a fine town to spend Christmas morning in. One rundown café. One shabby gas station. A handful of shaky houses rattling a dozen dismal tunes in the cold wind. Not a sign of life. A little jerkwater point on the highway waiting for the dawn of another bleak day. Christmas!
  Doc Blakely
Pokin' Fun
The Christmas season is upon us again, but in the modern version, the three wise men have been replaced by Visa, MasterCard, and American Express. Jolly old Saint Nicholas can't come down any chimneys for fear of getting shot as an intruder; Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer has a restraining order placed on him by an environmental group for polluting the atmosphere; and about the only place you get a hearty "Ho, Ho, Ho" is when you try to borrow money for frills like food and clothing.
  Monte Noelke
Shortgrass Country
Thursday is the deadline to buy groceries for weekend company at the ranch. I have to start cooking on Friday morning, or I won't be able to stay even. Mertzon lost its grocery store four years ago. We have two convenience stores, but they stock more canned macaroni and cheese and Vienna sausage in tomato paste than food to satisfy appetites whetted by country air.
  Baxter Black
On The Edge Of Common Sense
On the first day of Christmas my new love gave to me a cowdog who played the trombone. (Which was okay because I knew she loved animals and she was going to veterinary school to reduce their suffering and make her contribution for the benefit of mankind. Besides, she had the best little parakeets in town.)
  Linda Mussehl
As I See It ...
A balmy night breeze riffled the palm trees and the starry evening was silent and clear. The cloying scent of night-blooming jasmine was heavy on the warm night air. Christmas had arrived once again in Saudi Arabia.
  Lee Pitts
Its The Pitts
Every year my in-laws make it a point to invite someone to Christmas dinner who is poor, downtrodden and an outcast from society. Usually it's me, so it's no surprise when I receive a polite request every year to drive five hours one way to attend their annual Christmas feast. And I assume they are not surprised every year when I decline, always with the same excuse: "I have to stay home and feed the animals."
  Dale Rollins, Ph.D
Wildlife By Design
When my preacher starts a Sunday sermon that's likely to hit close to home, he always precedes his remarks with "now, I want y'all to know that I'm not mad at any of you." When you hear that, better hunker down as the message is about to make you squirm.

 
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