I Need an Alibi!
UPDATE: I was shocked and delighted (mostly delighted) that one of the "principals" from my original "Central 17" post popped in and commented. Rather than direct you back there, I have copied her comment here, and I'll reply here:
This is the KT mentioned in this blog post. I'm still laughing about this ancient episode in my high school past. I always regretted not being involved. How flattering to be described as having good sense and being cool at the same time. Some other things of interest: The Beaver Creek school was torn down, so hopefully all the Beavers can finally put this behind them (ha). I live about 150 feet above the famous fart-smeller road inscription. I think of it often when I drive that road. I think Susie and I should seriously think about a book/screenplay regarding this and other episodes from our hillbilly past. Has Susie posted anything about her foray into the world of beauty pageants? Just an idea for ya, doll!
KT, I am so tickled to see you here. If only we had known they were going to tear down the school anyhow, we could have saved all that hard-earned money. I have not posted, and I may never post, anything about pageants. There's blogworld and there's realworld, but pageantworld is a whole 'nother Oprah! That was too horrifying and traumatic a world to share here, without having gotten considerable therapy. I mean, even more than I've had! So seriously, is the "fart-smeller" thing still on the road? Is it like a landmark, "I live in the third house on the left after you drive over 'fart-smeller'?" I like how you called it an "inscription." That sounds so much nicer than grafitti. I'll email you. Study hard!
I now return you to your regularly scheduled post. Just wanted you to "meet" my friend "KT."
I have a bit of a situation, and I need your help. Over the weekend, there may or may not have been a mini-reunion of the "Central 17." We might possibly have met in South Dakota to reminisce, see the sights, compare art supplies. Hypothetically speaking, you understand.
Then this morning, I received a photograph in a plain brown email. I fear that I am being blackmailed. I need to ask that you all vouch for my whereabouts over the weekend. If anyone, like, say, a small town Southern sheriff, asks about me, please tell him that I was right here, giving y'all flowers and scripture verses. Please? Thank you. Oh, and if you want to embellish my alibi to make it more convincing, by all means, go for it.
I've never seen these guys before in my life! Well, maybe once . . .