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Glenn Miller, Chattanooga Choo Choo
Russ muttered, “You figure it out, we’ve got things to do.” He left the diner, climbed into the idling Dart, and peeled out—the white rat lurched momentarily, tightened his grip, and held on. Russ was late for his part-time job as the Golden Nugget’s premier Roy Rogers impersonator. A rubber, inflatable Trigger waited in the trunk, ready to ride on a moment’s notice. Betty’s Dale Evans outfit, complete with white cowgirl boots, sparkly vest, and curved-brim Stetson, was in the backseat where she usually changed, but Betty was nowhere to be seen.
Russ swerved to avoid the tall, sandy-haired stranger with a new haircut and handsome, ostrich cowboy boots rounding the corner on his handsome bay stallion. “Come on!”, the sandy-haired stranger shouted to the beautiful blonde and the well-dressed man. “The Bronco Busters saddled up for one more rescue and headed out this morning to look for Betty. Bring her shoe along for Scout to track.” He leaned down and lifted the the beautiful blonde into the saddle behind him. The well-dressed man hopped on a discarded LimeBike leaning against the diner and followed in close pursuit.
The sun was setting over the purple hills of the treacherous Shaggy Dog Range as the Bronco Busters thundered across the ridge—the white hats leading the way, the black hats skulking behind. As they spiraled down into the valley, the hats and horses could see the gray curl of a campfire burning next to Momma’s cabin.
Around the campfire sat a sandy-haired stranger in ostrich cowboy boots, a well-dressed man with slicked back hair holding a badly chewed pearl-filled white tie shoe, a beautiful blonde wearing a fuchsia leopard print blouse, and Russ, the Roy Rodgers impersonator (resplendent in a white good-guy cowboy hat, red bandana, boots of Spanish leather, a fringed Western shirt, and shiny plastic 6-guns secured in hand-tooled leather holsters), a white rat perched on his shoulder. Frankie was nowhere to be seen.
The door to Momma’s cabin opened and out came Betty, wearing pearl earrings, one white tie shoe, and yesterday’s uniform—Big Daddy under one arm and Momma’s cat under the other arm. “Found ‘em!”, said Betty only slightly out of breath. They joined the Kumbaya circle, Betty snuggling close to Russ, cats looking eagerly at the white rat.
The beautiful blonde poked Russ with her s’mores stick, looked the white rat straight in his pink eyes and said, “Pardon me Roy, is that the rat that chewed her new shoe?”
Sorry
S’mores in a jar
- 4 Hershey’s bars, roughly chopped
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
- 1 cup marshmallow fluff
- 16 Honey Maid Graham cracker squares
- 3 tablespoons butter, melted
- Jet Puffed Mini Marshmallows for topping
In a saucepan, heat the heavy cream until bubbles start to form on the side, about 2 minutes. Add the chopped chocolate to a medium sized bowl and pour the hot heavy cream on top. Let it sit for a minute and then whisk until smooth. Reserve.
Process the graham crackers until finely crumbed. Add the melted butter and pulse a few times until the mixture resembles wet sand. Reserve.
To assemble the smores in a jar, start by adding 1/4 of the Graham cracker mixture to the bottom of the mason jars. Then add 1/4 of the marshmallow fluff, 1/4 of the chocolate ganache and finish off my topping with mini marshmallows. Using a cooking torch, toast the marshmallows until browned and serve.
