I Met Burt Reynolds at the Hardware Store

I met Burt Reynolds at the hardware store. Burt’s a real son of a gun. He sure turns my crank. I saw him browsing in one of the tool aisles, and he looked up and caught my eye and came over and introduced himself. I said “I seen you in a talkin’ picture once. You was drivin’ a car. Boy, that got me goin’ good.” 

If you don’t believe me, I can prove this. Burt was wearin’ a big black mustache and nice hair, nice cowboy boots, some Wrangler jeans, and a real nice cowboy hat. And he was drivin’ a racecar. When he tipped his hat and left, he floored the gas so that the tires screeched and spun and burned all the tar. “Win the race, Burt!” I shouted and waved my arm up high. Burt’s car makes the other cars slow.

Yes, Mister Reynolds was wearin’ a flannel shirt when we met. And, lemme tell you, that feller knows how to tie up a hog. He drives a Chevy truck through the woods and buys all his necessaries at Mills Fleet Farm. He won’t drink nothin’ but moonshine; and he takes my side in the neighborhood feud. Did you know that that was his son that won the fiddle-off? And his favorite shop is Gary’s Scrap Metal. But now I gotta go — Burt’s comin’ to pick me up: we’re headin’ out to the State Fair.