Dear Hank Williams Read Online Free Page A

straightened and said, “I’ll take two pots.”
    When we drove away from the Cartwright house, I asked Aunt Patty Cake, “Why didn’t you try Tequila Sunrise Peach on Mrs. Cartwright’s cheeks?”
    â€œHoney, did you see the rough condition of her skin? Reminds me of crepe paper. Sudie wouldn’t have bought a single pot, but when she saw the rouge on your flawless cheeks she got caught up in the fairy tale.”
    â€œWhat fairy tale?” I asked.
    â€œThe fairy tale that maybe her fifty-seven-year-old cheeks could look as dewy fresh as your eleven-year-old ones. The beauty business is based on fairy tales, and every woman hopes they all come true.”
    So, see, Mr. Williams? I’m in the fairy-tale business too. Think of me as a fairy godmother without the wand. When we got home after making the rounds, Aunt Patty Cake went in the house, and I headed into the yard. Frog darted out from behind the magnolia tree next to the pasture fence. He’s always hiding and trying to scare me. But instead of saying, “Boo!” he asks, “Whatcha got those pink dots on your cheeks for?”
    Lord, I wish I had me a dog. If I had a dog, he would be loyal and true and wouldn’t ask me a billion stupid questions.
    The main reason I like to make the rounds with Aunt Patty Cake is so I don’t have to be around my pesky little brother. At least his bicycle is out of commission and I don’t have to worry about him trying to race that knucklehead Rudy in his convertible.
    Your fan and Delightfully Devine Beauty Products model,
    Tate P. Ellerbee

    PS—If I was a fairy godmother with a wand, I’d grant you three wishes. I’ll bet your first wish would be to become the most famous singer in the world.

    PPS—I like the song you sang on the Louisiana Hayride this week. Aunt Patty Cake still wonders what you look like.

 
    September 14, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    T HANK YOU FOR THE autographed picture! I was hoping for a letter, too, but I ain’t complaining. I’m probably the first person in Rippling Creek who could recognize you on the street. Aunt Patty Cake said, “I knew he’d be pretty.”
    Uncle Jolly took a quick look at your photograph and said, “Yeah, good thing he’s a pretty boy, because he can’t sing.” I probably shouldn’t have told you what Uncle Jolly said, but remember that comment came from a man who ain’t that pretty. Besides, Uncle Jolly can’t recognize talent the way I can. He only likes those sad heartbreak songs.
    Maybe someday you and Momma could sing in a cowboy movie together like those Hopalong Cassidy or Gene Autry movies. And you’re a lot better looking than Gene Autry. People would line up around the block to see that show. Thank you again for the autographed picture. I’m mighty proud to have it, and now I have something to tell them at the post office when I mail another letter if they go to snickering again.
    Your fan,
    Tate P.

    PS—Aunt Patty Cake said we could hang your picture over our Emerson radio.

 
    September 15, 1948
    Dear Mr. Williams,
    A LOT OF FOLKS are going to the railroad crossing in town to wait for the Clyde Beatty Circus on its way to Alexandria. The circus will be riding the Missouri Pacific up from Opelousas and will reach our town around three thirty in the morning. Folks are going to get up in the middle of the night and wait along the tracks, hoping to catch a glimpse of an elephant’s behind or a clown waving out the window. If you ask me, those folks are plain ole ridiculous. Seeing a blur of train cars rush by is nothing like sitting under a big top and watching a genuine circus.
    Uncle Jolly is taking me and Frog to Friday night’s performance. That’s if Frog doesn’t chicken out. He’s afraid of clowns. Frog is always afraid of the things he shouldn’t be and brave about the things that he should fear.
    Anyway,