Excerpt from my short story "The bad, bad luck of Judson Worley"

"Back in them days, only tele-ma-vision in Makersville was owned by Bobby Dickers down at Dickers grain and feed, an’ he was a mean old sort, not a feller, for example, to let other folks in his house, ya get me? But the whole town was a buzzin’ at the thought o’ seein’ one of their own bein’ broadcast to the masses, an’ that miserable son of a bitch Bobby Dickers eventually agreed to let the folk o’ the town into his home – for a price, o’ course! Second problem was, his house was barely big enough for him and his family, let alone a couple o’ hundred townsfolk, so once the important people, the landowners, storeowners, and o’ course the old timers were all seated up inside the house, weren’t no room for much of anybody else! What ensued was nothin’ short o’ a carnival; ya got people starin’ in the window, bringin’ stools and steps to try and see over everyone else, ya got folks climbin’ on roofs, up trees, on balconies, shoutin’ for Bobby Dickers to move that tele-ma-vision up to the window so they could see! I even saw one feller, no word of a lie, up a telegraph pole out in the Jackson field, tryin’ ta watch with a tele-ma-scope, no word of a lie, I tell ya! Well, after all the commotion and kerfufflin’, folks finally got settled down to watch the show. Jud was third on the bill, and we all sat patiently though some crooner and a good ol’ country boy, same ol’ same ol’ back in them days, ya get me? And then sure enough, after an enthusiastic introduction from the host, Jud swaggered out on the stage, with a full band accompaniment behind ‘im; horns, backin’ singers, you name it! The crowd was on they feet, cheerin’ an’ a hollerin’, watchin’ Jud stroll across toward the mic, clutchin’ that shiny new Fender gee-tar, wavin’ to the crowd as he went, smilin’, confident, lookin’ like nothin’ on god’s green earth could stop ‘im! Then, out of the blue, it all went wrong for poor ol’ Jud. Jus’ as he was almost there - he was so close he started reachin’ for the mic – he tripped and fell, right slap on his face! Bang! O’ course, he had that gee-tar out in front o’ him, and it took the full weight o’ Judson Worley  - a feller o’ considerable size as he was – and that gee-tar got smashed into a hundred pieces! Crowd went quiet. Jud stood up, dusted his-self down, and jus’ stared down at the broken guitar neck dangling’ from his paw. A stage hand rushed out with a replacement gee-tar, and Jud slung it over his shoulder, sure enough. But what happened next, well… once again I was dumbstruck! I simply could not believe ma eyes!"