BILLINGSGATE POST: The saga of Slim Everdingle began with a bang, not a whimper. In the maternity ward of the only hospital in Beaver Crossing, Nebraska, a star was born to Minerva and Never Everdingle. He came out of the womb as wild and slim as a thistle; they couldn’t name him Wild, cause that was already taken by his brother, so they named him Slim. His daddy thought the name had a ring to it.
Slim grew up in cattle country. Rode a horse when he was four years old, roped and hog-tied a young steer when he was seven. Was no big deal. Expected of him. Athletic and handsome as a latter-day Lash LaRue, he excelled in sports and won a football scholarship at Nebraska University, home of the Big Red. Slim was an All-American his senior year and graduated Magna Cum Laude while majoring in Animal Husbandry.
Of particular interest to him, other than the blond chicks who pestered him to show them how to ride his pony, was the Montana Pole. The Montana Pole was invented by a lonely shepherd from that eponymous state. As most creative ideas, this one arose from isolation and the sheer boredom of being isolated on a mountain side with hundreds of sheep greeting each other at Christmas with a “Merry Christmas to Ewe.”
The shepherd found an old pitchfork handle in the utility shed, and tying his shaving mirror to the end of the pole; Viola! The Montana Pole was born! Its utility was obvious. Upon mounting a young sheep and dangling the mirror in front of the baa-ing sheep’s head, he could now see, first hand, if the sheep were smiling.
NOTE: The last time anyone heard from Slim, he was introducing the Montana Pole to our representatives in Washington who wish to see if it will work on their constituents.