The Four F’s
***
Say, pardner, have you been
wondering where you can
wrassle-up the best bowl
of canned Spaghetti-O’s
in the West?
***
Well, Cowpoke,
quit yer stupid wonderin’,
because the answer lies at
the Chef Boyardee factory
in Milton, Pennsylvania!
***
Guaranteed the farmin’est,
freshest, fra-sauciest
bowl of Spaghetti-O’s
this side of the Pecos.
***
Or my name isn’t George Raymond!
***
And, hey —
when you get there,
be sure to tell ’em
George sent you.
***
And if they ask you
who George is — tell ’em,
***
“A beautiful, beautiful man.”
.
Keep circulating the URL
.
Firewater65 has written a
poem in the spirit of Trefology.
And I, for one, am here to say,
“It’s about time somebody did.”
***
Click here to read.
***
Or here.
***
But not here.
Proudly served on the sets of Spaghetti Westerns.
Undoubtably. Thanks, Pam.
Ciao Georgio, I think ‘the three F’s’ rates two tribute poems with one wagon containing script for your comeback movie. And when I told Sergio, at Sergio’s Spaghetti Western Chuck Wagon Style Triple-O Noodle Heads Takeout Piano Bar & Upstairs Bed ‘n Breakfast, Sergio goes, “O, O, O sure, who could forget ol’ Georgio. But he was goin’ by a ‘nother handle then… It was right after he’d shot a neat hole straight through each and every noodle head at the carnival shootin’ gallery and won he big yaller-tressed disco doll in a teeny-weeny bikini. That’s when the wild one, ol’ Eli Brandito called him “Blondie.” The handle caught on an stuck. Seein’ as ol’ Georgio sent you, pard, your can of Sergio’s Spaghetti Western Chuck Wagon Style Tripple-O Noodle Heads is on the wagon. It has a pull tab to open and comes with a reusable spoon. And when you see Blondie, I mean Georgio,” he said, heaving a heavy bundle of old typewriter paper tied up with strong twine onto the counter, “maybe you’d show him this here movie script that my nephew typed out. He’s a very versatile kid. That’s Rowdy over there, the yaller-tressed noodle head poundin’ the pianer.” I thanked, Serge, put the can in my pocket, strained my back schlepping the bundle upstairs to my room, dropped it on the floor with a thud in a cloud of dust, carefully untied the twine, sat down on the bed and and flipped through the pages. It took me all night and most of today. But soon as I retied the bundle, I grabbed the phone and told it to get me the Coast. So that’s why I’m leaving this message, Blon–er, Georgio. If you like Rowdy’s script, he can also play the piano in the movie, and Sergio’s would be the perfect location. If you’re good with it, there’s a supporting role in it for your big yaller-tressed disco doll, as Rowdy’s Ma. And you could shoot it right here at Segio’s, where the best Triple-O Noodle Heads in West Wisconsin are already in the can. The script is too much for the horse in this one-horse town, so I’ll send it on Sergio’s chuck wagon. Could be Blondie’s comeback vehicle. And the doll’s. Might earn earn tribute poems about Sergio’s red wagon, as seen some cool tribute poems.
I am stunned beyond a proper response—but epic work, E. Truly epic.
That is epic new, G. I’m so relieved that Sergio’s wagon driver, Chuck, found the way to Ma Raymondo’s hacienda, and that Ma took precious time away from improving her mind reading trophy poems or watching Tik-Tok memes, just to read Rowdy’s typing to you. Must have taken her a whole night an most of a day. No worries about casting. Rowdy can round ’em and move ’em out on Franciso Lane. Btw, the nephew’s a badass with a six-iron, too. Shot a lotta holes in noodle heads, on his uncle’s firing range in the kitchen, but he’s never seen a disco doll, much less one that goes “Ma-Ma” when squeezed. When Chuck picks you up for the trip to Sergio’s one-horse town, tell him to be real careful loading her on the wagon, and to roll her up in horse blanket so she don’t get cold, and tp rope that tight to ol’ Eli Brandito, so she don’t roll off in the Pecos. Ciao for now, bambino. I gotto go to the can, and pull the tab off Sergio’s Spaghetti Western O’s. I lost the reusable spoon, but Popeye managed just by squeezing a spinach can and dropping his jaw. That’ stunning.
Well I guess I am taking a road trip. Yee Haw! Spketti O’s here I come!
A Spaghetti-O’s road trip is practically a rite of passage. Keep the tank full, Janny!
Can we stop at Unpainted Arizona on the way?
Hilarious. Thanks, Bob
I thought Spaghetti O’s referred to the black holes in the Spaghetti Galaxy. At least that’s what Capt. Boyardee told me after poking his starship through a few of them.
Ha! This is now official Spaghetti Galaxy lore. Thanks, D.
I’ll take your word for it. Fun post, George.
Thanks, John. Much appreciated.
:D :D :D
Thanks, mm!!!!!
“But not here.” Ha!
I aim to please! Thanks, Ilsa
Canned SpaghettiOs is a much-needed menu change from the campfire cuisine of beans. :)
Granted, Heinz Baked Beans in Tomato Sauce on toast are one of my favorite comfort foods, but occasionally one must go for the O’s. Besides, they were brilliant enough to once sell them with the slogan, “Uh-oh, Spaghetti-Os!”—and get Jimmie Rodgers to sing it.
When anyone asks me who George is, I always tell them he is Raymond.
I’ll allow that. Thanks, Geoff
A beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful man! Don’t shortchange yourself! lol
Modesty forbids! Thanks, S!
I do love me some of them thar spuhg-et-tee-oooooooos of the west!
You are too funny, Jean! Thanks.
You Sir…are a true original.
Thankyouverymuch.