Tag: wynonna judd

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Making friends.”

You’re good at that.

“Oh, yeah. And I got a lot of free time since Jimi Hendrix never calls. I don’t know if I’ve told you this in a while, but—”

He’s your best friend.

“–Jimi is my best friend.”

Uh-huh.

“Over to my right in the hat is Carl, the Living Carl.”

Okay.

“Next to him is Non-Tattooed Pete. He’s got the fewest tattoos I’ve ever seen.”

Zero?

“Somewhere around there. I didn’t check all of him.”

Good idea.

“You know Watusi.”

Wynonna.

“And, uh, to my left is A Mash-Up Of Tom Waits And Bruce Springsteen.”

That’s a good name for that guy to have.

“Fitting, yeah.”

“I have little-to-no training in dentistry, Wendigo.”

“Wynonna. Jus’ look at the bottom molars. There’s a plot shapin’ up back there.”

“It can get treacherous.”

“Bobby, my teeth is turnin’ hostile and communistic. An’ I think one of my crowns is an outside agitator.”

“Uh-huh. Did, uh, you use my Fret-Eeze?’

“Oh, yeah. Whole mess of it.”

“Ah. That’s aerosolized ayahuesca.”

“You don’t say.”

“I did. Just now.”

“I had no idea you could put that in a spray can.”

“I got a guy.”

“That was a lotta fun, Windmill Face.”

“Wynonna. Judd. My name is Wynonna Judd, Bob. ‘Windmill Face’ is not a human name.”

“Well, I gotta disagree there. People can call themselves whatever they want. That’s what Malcolm the 10th fought for.”

…

“Bobby, it wasn’t a Roman numeral. His name was Malcolm X.”

“I’ve heard both ways. Anyhoo, how’s your shoulder feeling?”

“Fine.”

“I got something that’ll make it feel super.”

“Well, kick that down.”

“Now we’re talking.”

“It’s so nice to have you back, Mrs. Donna Jean.”

“Wynonna Judd, Bob.”

“The names sound similar.”

“Lotta people’s names sound similar, Bob. Don’t mean they’re the same person.”

“Agree to disagree. Nine times out of ten, people are the same person.”

“I don’t even begin to understand that last bit o’ nonsense.”

“Westphalia–”

“Wynonna.”

“–you on TikTok? I’m, uh, all over that site. I missed out on YikYak, so I decided to get in on the ground floor with TikTok.”

“You talkin’ ’bout investin’?”

“No. I make viral videos with the dogs. Well, semi-viral. Wish I still had Otis around. He was a husky. So, you know, if everything wasn’t just exactly perfect, he’d start whining. Sounded almost human. Anyway, I logged onto the YouTube the other day, and folks eat that up. I could, uh, be doing big numbers, but now we got a German Shepherd and a curly-haired thing. No humorous noises whatsoever.”

“Going back over to the piano.”

“All right, then.”

“I loved you in Edward Scissorhands.”

“You’re thinkin’ ’bout a whole diff’rent Wynonna, Bob.”

“Ah. You’re leaving that part of your life behind you. I get it.”

“Don’t know if you do.”

“How are you related to Reba McEntire?”

“In no way.”

“Me, either. That, uh, makes us second cousins.”

“Does it?”

“According to my sources, yes. My sources are quite clear about that.”

“Who are these sources, Bob?”

“Mostly Matt Busch. I hired him to tune my guitars, but he ended up tuning up my mind.”

“Bless his heart.”

“I love what you’re wearing. I’ve, uh, never seen a crocheted toppermost before.”

“Bob, don’t take this personal or nothin’, but I’m gonna go stand over by the piano player.”

“His name is New Brent.”