[motorholdem]

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One trick is to tell them stories that don't go anywhere. Like that time I took the ferry over to Shelbyville; I needed a new heel for my shoe. So, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickle, and in those days, nickles had pictures of bumblebees on them. "Give me five bees for a quarter," you'd say. Now where were we? Oh yeah, the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn't have any white onions, because of the war; the only thing you can get was those big yellow ones...

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I don't know what you're talking about. There were plenty of white onions in those days. You just needed to know where to find them. See, at the corner of the neighborhood, you know, near the trailer park, there used to be a guy who only sold white onions. Or were they the purple ones? Anyway, he could get whatever you needed, which is probably why the trailer tenants could never move out.

I remember walking to school with those kids. They used a different kind of money than us kids from the North side of the block. Had some funny bumblebees on them or something like that if I remember. Anyway, in grandma's attic one summer I found a whole box of them. It wasn't until I was older that I realized she must have come from that part of the neighborhood. Anyway, what I don't understand is why you'd want white onions for in the first place. Sure, they were "in vogue", but trying to hook up with a local girl was next to impossible. Unless of course you were around the South side of the block. Garlic wouldn't scare them off. No, sir.

Anyway....what was I saying?

Onaflag...........

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Actually the place was Martinsville, not Morganville. The old guy that sold the white onions had a cousin named Morgan, and it seems the cousin was the coroner, minister, and self-appointed historian. The cousin was so mad after Alfred E Martin got his 15 year-old sister pregnant( and then ran off with the fat lady in the circus) that he changed the name on the county township map to Morganville, and then shipped it off all official-like to the county clerk and the National Geographic Society. Anyway, years later the fat lady had a kid with three eyes, (and an onion sized lump on the back of his knee that they called a Baker's cyst, but it really wasn't) and the kid saw the name Morganville (which he thought was Shelbyville) on a map in his grade 5 geography book. The kid didn't do nothin right away, bad after his fourth year in grade 5 he told the teacher that somthin was amuck (he really said that - amuck). His teacher checked it out with the county clerk and sure enough he tracked things back and found that the place never was Morganville.. Anyway, it also turns out the Matin guy never did get the 15 year-old pregnant, but did suffocate one night when the fat lady rolled over, and they ended up burying him in a family plot in Shelbyville, which used to be Martinsville or Morganville, depending on who you talk to....