Small Town Burlesque

I’m from Northeast Florida.

Like much of the USA, there’s always a County Fair every year, with all the local trimmings.

In my day, this included darkly lit, dirt alleys, all lined with highly questionable canvas tent facades.

One fine evening in the mid-60s, and down one of those dim, off-limit zones, a ‘burlesque’ show was boldly advertised alongside other faded, signs of Certain Doom.

My silly juvenile friends and me were immediately SOLD and went inside the Big Tent.

The ‘show’ turned out NOT to be cherry pink, nor apple blossom white. Not even a rare oddly-colored tulip. In this case, it was anything but a flower. More like an old butternut squash you meant you cook six months ago.

The place had a strange odor, too.

The Headline Lady was exceptionally large and, well, fat. She told weird jokes I don’t remember. She giggled and jiggled a lot and briefly displayed about 24 round-inches of her two-yard circumference boobs.

After five or so minutes, she turned around bared her Titanic butt (with underwear, thank god), and shook it real good. This caused a minor earthquake in the immediate vicinity. 

She laughed, giggled some more, and then left ‘the stage’.

The show was over.

We left. None of us felt horny. We had less money. Still, a valuable life lesson followed us.

My thoughts today: I hope they paid her well and God bless her ass.

Carter Crabtree

The Sun Always Shines On the Wealthy

By Carter Crabtree

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Small Town Burlesque

I’m from Northeast Florida.

Like much of the USA, there’s always a County Fair every year, with all the local trimmings.

In my day, this included darkly lit, dirt alleys, all lined with highly questionable canvas tent facades.

One fine evening in the mid-60s, and down one of those dim, off-limit zones, a ‘burlesque’ show was boldly advertised alongside other faded, signs of Certain Doom.

My silly juvenile friends and me were immediately SOLD and went inside the Big Tent.

The ‘show’ turned out NOT to be cherry pink, nor apple blossom white. Not even a rare oddly-colored tulip. In this case, it was anything but a flower. More like an old butternut squash you meant you cook six months ago.

The place had a strange odor, too.

The Headline Lady was exceptionally large and, well, fat. She told weird jokes I don’t remember. She giggled and jiggled a lot and briefly displayed about 24 round-inches of her two-yard circumference boobs.

After five or so minutes, she turned around bared her Titanic butt (with underwear, thank god), and shook it real good. This caused a minor earthquake in the immediate vicinity.

She laughed, giggled some more, and then left ‘the stage’.

The show was over.

We left. None of us felt horny. We had less money. Still, a valuable life lesson followed us.

My thoughts today: I hope they paid her well and God bless her ass.

Carter Crabtree

Continue reading “Small Town Burlesque”