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    The Moon Dances

    August 23, 2009
    By Alex Crabtree

    Betting the farm

    Betting the farm

    Karen was told that she needed a stage name, so she took one. Maybe, she thought, just maybe she could wear her new name like a mask, and not be recognized. Recognition would lead to a wagonload of embarrassment.

    She thought if she could do this, she could make enough money to help her dad fight off the wolves that were clamoring foreclosure on the family farm. After all, she had gotten standing ovations for her portrayal of Maria in the Jefferson High production of West Side Story. So, she figured why not turn some of that skill into cash?

    She stood in the wings, adorned with pigtails and cutoff bibs, waiting for her first introduction. Finally, the Emcee in the loud suit and greased back hair barked the words, “Right here, right now, for the first time anywhere, from de-e-e-e-p in the heartland we give you, Miss Harvest Moon.” With that, her music started and she slinked from the wings towards the pole that was in the center of the stage.

    As she grabbed the pole with one hand and straddled it, she removed the beauty pageant sash that read ‘Miss Harvest Moon’. She spun slowly around the pole once and threw the sash into the crowd. She then strutted to the edge of the stage, towards a group of young men who were rowdy in their whistling and yelling.

    Harvest Moon went to one knee in time with the song, unbuckled one of the straps on her overalls to reveal a supple breast. This brought on a shower of one-dollar bills and cries of proposals for all kinds of lewd acts.

    Someone yelled, “Karen! What the hell are you doing up………”

    The older man, who had just exited the bathroom, couldn’t finish his sentence. He grabbed his chest and went crashing backwards across a table, and onto the floor.

    Out of instinct, she and everyone else ran to the dying man. To her horror, she saw her father laying there in the spilled alcohol and shattered glass.

    “…….and that’s how she saved the farm.” Brett leaned back and folded his hands behind his head.

    “I don’t get it Brett. How did that one dance, the one dance that killed her father, save the farm?” Steve said as he picked up his beer bottle.

    “You see, her daddy had a million dollar life insurance policy.” Brett answered with a sly smile.

    Their conversation was interrupted by an announcement from the stage, “And now, you can bet the farm that you’ll be entertained. Just back from a world tour, let’s hear it for Miss Harvest Moon!”

    © 2009, Alex Crabtree. All rights reserved.

    Years ago I started writing Flash Fiction for just the sheer enjoyment of writing, and now it has turned into a full blown addiction. I can't quit the horse, man! Another dirty little secret about me is my ability to write all kinds of web content. SEO content, articles, blog posts, manifests; you name it, I'll write it. Looking for some help? My gun hangs at r.alex.crabtree@gmail.com
    Alex Crabtree
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