Toad Lick, TX. Pt. 1

ToadLick Tx. Part I
This is a work of fiction. My aim here is to do something a bit like Garrison Keillor’s “Lake Woebegone.” Let’s see how it goes, shall we?
Toad-Lick Texas
Hi folks, my name is Buford Rimes, call me “Boo,“ and I come from this small town in Texas called Toad-Lick. I’m the town cop. Actually, my job title is “Police Chief,“ but with only one other paid cop, and a few reserve officers, I have always felt that the title was stretching it just a wee bit. Anyway, I was at the local coffee shop this morning, that’s where I usually start out my work day, and it occurred to me that I might want to write about some of the characters here in my hometown. Maybe I should start out with a description of the place first.
Toad-Lick was established in 1854. It’s situated in North Central Texas. I’m told it was named for the local creek that runs through town, that apparently was infested with toads, when the town was established here. My dad always said that it wasn’t really big enough to be called a creek, so they called it a lick. Dad also said that the real reason they called it Toad-Lick was that the Indians they massacre'd here to establish this town, used to lick the local frogs then go crazy. Dad was always kind of a Joker though, so either way,now it’s Toad-Lick Creek. The town was at one time a hub of the Texas-Central Rail-Road, although it was established as a cattle stop-off on the Chisolm Trail, due to the good grazing, and nearby source of year-round water. The Brazos river is about 5 or 6 miles southwest of town. We have a Walmart, a Tractor-Supply, and a few other stores. A couple of beauty Salons, one of which is also our local Barber-Shop. We are very proud of our local high-school, and especially the football team. We have a chapter of the Kiwanis, and a Lion’s Club, too. They both meet here at the coffee shop, in the back dining-room. We also have a post of the American Legion. That’s one of the two places to go, on a Saturday night around here. The other one is here at the coffee-shop, where a group of folks who play all kinds of musical instruments get together and jam, or something like jamming, anyway. Mostly they play Bluegrass, or old Country music, and they are usually pretty good. Anyway, that’s the place to go, if you don’t drink. Otherwise, it’s the American Legion for their Saturday night Dance.
The Coffee Shop is named “The Last Resort Saloon, and BBQ,” although they don’t sell any alcohol there, and everyone just calls it “The Coffee Shop.” It DOES have a pretty fair BBQ though. Most of the business around these parts is done there, over breakfast, lunch, or coffee. Supper-time is reserved for just visitin’. You’d be surprised at how much business is done at coffee shops in Texas. It’s sort of a tradition, along with the running game of “42” at the back table. ”42” is a domino game for ya’ll that ain’t from Texas.
We have a used car dealer in town, his name is Melvin Graser, and he doubles as the Mayor. His brother, Del, is the local dentist, and the head of our Chamber-of Commerce.
Del’s a good guy, a right-nice feller the older folks say, Melvin though? Well, let it just stand that he’s a used car salesman…and a minor politician.
There’s Dave Wilson, our volunteer Fire-Chief, and a Dairy Farmer, during his regular work days. Dave’s someone you can count on, a four-square kind-of guy, and incidentally, my best-friend since Jr. High. He owns a working Dairy, with 1500 acres, and about that many cows, and efficiently runs our Volunteer Fire Dept. on the side. “In my spare time,” according to him. According to his wife, Martie, he doesn’t have any spare time, and is working himself into an early grave. I tell him, “That’s ok, buddy, go ahead and work yourself to death, I’ll take care of Martie when you’re gone. That’s what friends are for, right?” They both just laugh. They were our Best Man, and Maid-of-Honor when my wife, Donna, and I got married, and we were theirs. Donna passed away a few years ago, after a long, and wasting illness. They stood by me then, too. Yep, best friends.
©F.Pierce