Me An' Oprah, Sittin' In A Tree.

If you were given the choice to be childhood friends with anyone on earth, who would it be?

I'd choose Oprah. I bet she was one hip kid. And even if she wasn't, who cares. Think of what things would be like now. I'd get to come on the show every now and then, likely for a "Remembering Your Spirit" spot or a "Use Your Life Award", or something, and then she'd give me tons of free stuff because we're like family. That'd be sweet. We probably had a secret club when we were little. Something like Team OAR (Oprah And Ryan), and we would go canoeing down the Ol' Mississippi, using our special oars that we made out of our rival clubs forts. Every now and then we'd catch a big bull frog, stick a straw up its butt, blow it up real big, set it out on the lake to float, grab our 12-guages and blast the poor hopper to bits. Ahhh, yes, those were the days. There were instances, however, when she really got on my nerves. For instance, the time when Oprah seemed to think it was fun to light hair on fire. That wasn't cool, O. I always had a great way to tick her off though. Whenever I'd get angry at her, or when she'd think she had the upper hand, I'd simply call her 'Orpah', and she would go off like a Roman Candle on the 1st o' July. I mean, 4th. Sorry, y'all. Yessirree, she certainly hated the fact that 'Orpah' was originally to be her first name. Her momma had picked it out and was set on it until the people in the office screwed up the birth certificate. Lucky for Oprah, I suppose. Orpah does sound a mite prudish, I reckon. Not that Oprah wasn't a prude. Anyways, this is all besides the point. The important thing was that I had an onion tied to my belt, which was the style in those days. Yessir, back in nineteen-dickety-two. Y'see, we said 'dickety' 'cause the kaiser stole our word for twenty. And in those days the nickel had a picture of a bee on the front, so, "Give me five bees for a quarter," you'd say...


Adios,

Dayton.