Dear Internet: Let us share a bit of the summer with you:
It was early June, when we gentlemen first came upon the town of Charleston. Is there a finer municipality in the state of South Carolina? I think not! For all but the most sullen character, Charleston holds something agreeable: historic sites for the curious traveler, tee-shirt bazaars for the uncurious tourist, cobblestones for the strong-ankled pedestrian, liquor for the drunkard, iced cream for the glutton, and more!
We arrived in good spirits, having found both joviality and profitability the two days previous. St. Augustine and Savannah had accepted us graciously and the Ziploc sandwich bag that carried our winnings was near capacity. Perhaps we should upgrade to ‘freezer size,’ I suggested. Must you pierce my eardrums with your incessant chatter? The Councilman replied.
We toured the city’s streets and soon found ourselves a suitable performance spot. Across from us sat a former slave-market, now dedicated to the sale of trinkets. Trinkets will not till my fields!, The Councilman bellowed. I conceded the point, but offered that a trinket-buyer is perhaps more likely than, say, a slave-trader to throw a dollar our way. We agreed, and commenced music-making.
A successful evening followed. In a mere two hours, we recovered our day’s costs and received an outstanding offer of lodging from a fetching Texas matron. The Councilman and I debated whether this woman had unpure intentions for us. We, as usual, concluded that she did and set our minds to possible scenarios. Of these, a re-enactment of the Alamo, with The Councilman as General Santa Anna; yours truly as Davy Crockett; and our sinewy, blond hostess as the Alamo, itself, proved the most thrilling. A successful evening, indeed!
-S. Andy Bean