Dalton RobertsI want to share a secret with you today about myself that is, frankly, a little embarrassing to a bashful Watering Trough boy. The only condition is that you must promise to never tell anyone about it.
The reason it is so important for you to keep quiet about it is that for decades I have turned down numerous requests from damsels requesting that I arise from my comfortable chair and rock ‘n’ roll with them while I was on break at some dancing venue. Not only did I not rock ‘n’ roll well enough to be seen on a dance floor, I really hated it.
The few times I tried it, people would snicker and point at me while I was jumping around like a spastic toad frog or paddlewheeling like the Southern Belle with a couple of paddles missing. The only person who rocked and rolled so pitifully was my old pal Hoyle Picklesimer, who looked like a wiener on a pogo stick.
Now that we have an understanding and I know I can trust you to never tell, here goes the embarrassing truth: I often rock ‘n’ roll when I am alone at home.
I know that conjures up an image of a water buffalo shaking the floor and the supporting structure of a house trying bravely to get out of a huge mud hole.