Duder rambled down the freeway from truckstop to truckstop. He must've grazed every lot lizard from northeast to the southwest. And all along he honked his trusty, whiney harmonicai.
Ooh did he know how to make that little baby whine! He whined it like a bratty child. Them blues was alive and well in this country, with Duder at the harmonicai helm.
He was hungry from ham and eggs one mornin' and he hustled and bustled into a diner from some fast breakin'. Ain't had no money he did, but he whipped out that bratty little whiner and croaked a good wawa on it, got himself some unborns and some slab on the platter for the price of zero!
"Yep." he said to himself, "Alls I gotta do is get my little pocket baby here a cryin' and they just hand over baby's candy."
Duder walked into a juke joint and played some sad tunes. Duder walked over to the cigarette man stand and got him some smokies. Duder needed a ride and his his wawa child hitched it for him.
"People respect a man who can play a harmonicai." said the truck driver who picked him up.
"Much obliged." said Duder.
"Say, my radio is broke. Can you fill the silence?" said the driver.
Duder wawa'd all the way to the next station.
"Welp, lookin' like it's time to fill 'er up. Think you can chip in?" asked the driver. Duder pulled out his harmonicai again and whaled away.
"Aw hell. Forget it." said the driver.
The driver had planned to drop Duder off in Wichita and be on his way to Oklahoma City. Duder wawa'd his way all the way out of the way to Fayetteville! The driver was p.o.'d as a screamin' fire engine without a burnin' building. Duder pissed a lotta people off with his melodic tantrum throwin' manipulator stick.
One day Duder with found dead with his harmonica shoved down his throat.
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