• Krewed again

    by Donald K. Sanders

    Man, I’ve been krewed again. (I felt I had to replace the “S” with a “K” because this is a family publication.) I have been krewed by the Swedish Academy that gives out Nobel prizes. They gave the prize for literature to a guy named Mo Yan. This Mo Yan guy lives in China. I think it’s a big mistake because I wanted that award.

    When I heard about this, I nearly flipped my wig. I walked directly to my computer and sat down in my chair. The chair wobbles because I was going to make one of those flat roller thingys so I could work under my truck. I didn’t finish that project, so there is still one roller on my chair and the rest are out in the yard somewhere. I’ll find them when I mow the grass.

    As you all know, I have a big brain, so I figured out exactly what happened in about 20 minutes or so. I figure the academy’s secretary, a guy named Peter Englund, had to make a slip-up on his paperwork. I think maybe he used abbreviated names for the prize candidates and got them mixed up somehow. He probably meant to put the paper with “Do San” (the abbreviation for “Donald Sanders)” on the top of the pile. However, what he really did was put the “Mo Yan” (the abbreviation for “Mo Yanski” or whatever) paper on top of mine by mistake.

    I’m not saying this Peter Englund is a dummy, but geeze, he can’t even spell England right. I mean we’re talking about a lot of money here. This Mo Yan character got over 8 million Kroner along with this prize. It took a minute, but I figured that to be well over a hundred American Dollars, maybe more. With that much money I could go to the hardware here in town and buy two of those flat roller thingys and roll around my driveway all day.

    They had to mix up the names because Mo Yan and I are so much alike, except that he’s Chinese and I’m American. Mo wrote a book called “Red Sourgum” and I’m going to write a book called “Red Neck Sourgum.” Both books are about farming families caught up in the “Cultural Revolutions” of their respective countries.

    Even more amazing than that, both books are tales of love amid the Japanese invasion of our towns. The only difference is that they made a movie out of his book and the damn thing won the top prize at the Berlin International Film Festival in 1988. Big deal! I didn’t want that prize anyway.

    Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t care if Mo Yan did win the Nobel. I’m going to tell everyone that I won it anyway. Nobody around here would know the difference anyway and even if they did, Mo’s book is written in Chinese. I can simply tell everybody the book was first released in China and the Winters version is coming out next year. It goes to reason that it would be in written Chinese so all those China people could read it, right?

    Another thing I’ve been working on is copying a book written by a guy named Earnest Hemmingway. I figure I can copy this guy’s book and put my name on it because we write so much alike. All I have to do is change the name of the town to Winters and change the name of the hero to Donald Sanders.

    Next, I’m going to buy a suit and carry a briefcase with the words, “Culinary Critic” written on it in big red letters. Why, I could walk into any restaurant in town and get free food and service. Those Pickerels and Ogandos would be eating out of my hand for the publicity they think I can get them. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right. I’ve got a bone to pick with those Pickerels anyway.

    They cook the food at the Buckhorn and the Putah Creek Café right down the street from my house. They know it’s got to be driving people crazy. How would you like to smell their steaks cooking every day. It comes into my house and it won’t leave me alone. It’s driving me crazy and I think maybe it’s affecting my writing because I keep talking about eating all the time. I’m getting fat too. All of a sudden I have “man-breasts.”

    Do you think I have grounds for a civil suit?

    • Yes, definitely Donald. I love your stories and I think you should win every award.

    • I think Redneck Sourgum has a future. But I walked past Buckhorn the other day and didn’t smell anything!

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