In one of those life-changing moments that can cause any sane individual to pray that they were indeed adopted, local rancher Flem Snopes was forced to drag the genetic skeletons out of the closet when faced with a decades old photo of a family member that everyone agrees he most resembles. After fluctuating between denial, anger, hopelessness and uncontrolled sobbing, rancher Snopes eventually threw his entire emotional weight behind the one reasonable alternative that could possibly get himself out of a life of teasing, autograph seekers, Halloween party invitations, children fleeing in blind terror and light bulbs left anonymously in the mailbox - the slim but very real chance that he was, in fact, adopted but everyone just forgot about it in what is commonly known as a rare (but certainly not unprecedented) case of collective amnesia that stretched across the Palouse. How this would somehow alter his natural resemblance to his uncle and thus avert the unfortunate consequences no one is quite sure, but one must play with the cards they are dealt, as they say."Well, stranger things have happened" said Snopes. "Remember that time that woman in Lincoln County said she got kidnapped by space aliens when everyone thought she was up gambling at the casino in Airway Heights with that escaped convict? Sure, it seemed hard to believe at the time, given that she was a compulsive gambler and self-destructive risk-taker, but now that I think about it I find her story very believable and feel I might have been a little hasty in my initial assessment of the situation. So, if things like that can happen right in our own backyard, I don't see why everyone in the whole extended family (not to mention the entire tri-county area) could not have forgotten about a common place thing like a simple, routine, run-of-the-mill adoption 56 years ago! Its not that far-fetched!" he said convincingly while feverishly developing a plausible explanation for those annoying pregnancy photos of his dear, sweet mother that are in half the photo albums in Whitman County.
1 comment:
When Uncle Fester first showed the world how to light a bulb with his mouth, [thus inspiring a generation of kids to try it when no one was looking just in case it worked], it seemed like a relatively useless skill. In today's power-expensive world, however, that skill takes on new meaning. Wouldn't we all be as lucky to be able to power our electric cars with our mouths like Uncle Fester. Except that we don't have electric cars in Lamont, and Uncle Festus only looks like Uncle Fester, and that whole light bulb thing was a Hollywood trick. Oh the bleak realities of this prairie life!
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