by Harry B. Sanderford
Holding a popsicle to the testicle I injured on my bicycle, Nurse Brandi says it's possible I also broke my clavicle. I boast I nearly made it but I think she's unimpressed, dare-devil and imbecile's the same to her I guess. I launched even higher than I'd really thought I would and once I cleared the fence it was lookin' pretty good. I sailed across the drainage ditch and touched down awful pretty, but when my back wheel got the wobbles I chaired the tumbleweed committee. My thumb got pretty twisted, I skinned my knees and tore my pants. Nurse Brandi's got me on the mend but I fear I'll soon have ants.
Harry B. Sanderford, whose full catalog is here, is a Central Florida surfing cowboy who'd sooner spin yarns than mend fences.