FROM THE EDITOR

Writer's Block

Origins

Yipee Ti Yi Yay — A Play in Half an Act

by John Collins

Dramatis Personae:
Ol' Geezer:	A wizened old cowpoke with too much sand in his saddle and too much whisky in his gut.
Origins Guy:	A personification of your beloved author, manufactured to give the Ol' Geezer someone to talk to.
Narrator:	Well, the narrator, of course.
Act One, Scene One: Our small drama opens 'round a crackling campfire, somewhere in southern Texas. The Ol' Geezer is sitting on a log by the fire; Origins Guy has just arrived, hitched his horse, and approached the fire; stars blink in the autumn sky; a lone coyote howls in the distance...you get the picture.
Ol' Geezer:	Howdy, pardner! Yer that Origins feller, ain't ya?
Origins Guy:	That's right, I am. How'd you know?
Ol' Geezer:	The sign on the side o' yer hoss. Hunker down by the fire, and I'll tell y'all a tall tale or two about where a few o' them cute little cowfolk sayin's come from. Ya see, back when the West was a-spittin' and a-fightin' and a-burstin' at the britches with all manner of cussin' folks, talk got mighty colourful at times, and we managed to think up a few doozies (and steal a few others). Why, I 'member one son of a gun, he was so fire-tongued he was like to burn up as spit. A real trailblazer, he was, comin' up with new ones nigh on every few minutes or so. Got kind of irritating to some, I 'spect, but I liked him okay. This feller, Seth we called him (tho' I think his name was Joe, which explains why he didn't always come a-runnin' when we called him Seth), was, as I said, a real son of a gun...
Narrator:	We interrupt this rather annoying pseudo-Western dialect to bring you the undoubtedly welcome news that the rest of this play will appear in modern English, as rendered by yours truly, the Narrator. As our intrepid (but somewhat odiferous) Ol' Geezer was about to relate, his friend Seth was a real son of a gun. Some might think that meant his father was a gunfighter, but if you did think that, you would, as Ol' Geezer might say, "be 'bout as wrong as a polecat in a perfume shop". Actually, the phrase "son of a gun" is a sailor's term, not one from the Old West at all. It seems that sailors used to be permitted to bring their wives aboard ship. That, of course, was a recipe for trouble, and sure enough, in no time there were women sitting under the breast of a gun carriage cradling their little "sons of a gun".
Origins Guy:	Uh, excuse me, Mr. Narrator? I think maybe the readers would like to hear this stuff from Ol' Geezer. I mean, this is Origins, after all, and they seem much more genuine coming from the horse's mouth, as it were. Go ahead, Ol' Geezer, what were you saying?
Ol' Geezer:	Well, thank ye kindly, young 'un. Anyways, "son of a gun" was only a little less insultin' than "son of a whore", and sort of along the lines of "son of a bitch" (or "son of a Narrator"), but in "son of a gun", it seems the woman gets off a little easier (no pun intended—for once). So anyways, Seth was, like I was sayin', a real trailblazer...
Narrator:	We again interrupt this diatribe to report that I would be most remiss not to rescue you, dear reader, from witnessing the bastardization our poor language is suffering at the hands (or lips) of Ol' Geezer. As he was no doubt about to say, just because Seth was a trailblazer didn't mean he went about lighting fire to the roads. That would be, in the vernacular of the area, plumb loco.
Ol' Geezer:	Which means, a'course, someone who ate one o' them there wild beans that gives the cattle brain diseases and such—don't them surprise-type origins just spin yer spurs?
Narrator:	Shutup, you annoying little troll. No, a trailblazer is actually a person who marks his way along on a trail by scoring notches into trees with his axe or knife, in order to ensure that he doesn't get lost along the way. The "trail" part is obvious (he's on a trail, for those with Ol' Geezer's intellect), but the blaze actually represents the white spot on a horse's head. It seems the notch resembles that. Or it does to someone who's lost, at any rate. And maybe a little drunk. Further...
	The sound of breaking guitar strings twangs in the night, and Ol' Geezer walks back in from stage left, brushing Narrator dust from his hands.
Ol' Geezer:	There, that's a mite better. But back to Seth. There's some what says Seth don't know beans, but I'm here to tell ya right now, he knowed beans, all right. Why, he knowed beans so good he could sing along with you right fine after a big dinner, without ever openin' his mouth. But that's another one o' them stole sayings, since it actually comes from back East. Ya see, up Boston way where they's all snooty-tooty an' such, some say that they think they's so smart and knows everything, but all's they know is beans. So, when you says "he don't know beans", it's one o' them subtle digs at someone who's as pretentious as a preenin' pea-hen.
	A click sounds from stage left, as of a hammer being cocked, and Ol' Geezer looks nervously in that direction.
Ol' Geezer:	Anyways, it looks like it's time for me to ride off into the sunset once't again.
Origins Guy:	And remember, say what you think, but think about what you say.