Rudy Ramos as Wind, YouTube video

 

Courtesy of The Buck Stops Here– Thanks so much!

 

Rudy’s first reading of Geronimo, Life on the Reservation, courtesy of the 2013 High Chaparral Reunion, Tucson, AZ

 

Booking video. Bring Geronimo, Life on the Reservation to a theatre near you! Video courtesy of Late Bloomer Videos

 

I’m the playwright and author of books in several genres.

See my books and stories here!

“Pig! Pig!” Pigtunia’s Vacation, a humorous short romance

“Pig, Pig!”
(romance writer invents a new genre: Pig Romances!)

Janelle Meraz Hooper
Note: I use my blog for fun. Please see my serious books at the link below:
See my literary and romance books here!

‘Tis the season for silly. I found this in my files; it was written after a writer-friend sent me a photo of a pig jumping out of a truck of pigs headed for market in the middle of a busy intersection. The top of the truck was very high off the ground and the pig sailed right over the railing and landed safely on the ground. I wanted to post the photo, but I don’t have permission to use it; I’m sure it’s copyrighted!

“Pig, Pig!” Pigtunia shouted as she stood on the corner of a busy street in downtown Santa Monica. In between shouts for help, she squealed. Squealed until she literally stopped traffic at the busy intersection. Passersby, drivers, kids on bicycles, motorcycles driven by hairy black-jacketed men wearing black goggles—all looked around to see if they could figure out what the pig’s problem was.

Nothing looked amiss. Well, granted, there was a very upset pig on the corner of Cork and Vine, but no one could figure out why. The noise persisted until a businessman carrying a briefcase cautiously approached the angry pig and asked, “What’s the problem, Miss Piggie?”

“What kind of a town is this?” answered Pigtunia. “I’ve been calling for the cops for over twenty-minutes and there’s not a pig in sight!”

“Oh, you want the police? We don’t use the pig-word here unless we’re talking to an actual pig, like you. Here, you have to dial 911 if you need help.”

“Dial? Dial how?”

“Why, on your cell phone.”

“Do you see any pockets here?” Pigtunia asked as she looked down at her legs.

Just then, a news crew and cameraman from a nearby television station ran up and started filming. Sticking her microphone in the pig’s face, the newsperson began to interview the distressed pig. With no prodding, Pigtunia launched into her rant:

I signed up for a road cruise that was supposed to take me along the coast for a 6-day vacation. I was promised fresh mud every day, good food, and luxurious sleeping quarters. What I got was the back end of a crowded truck, “mud” that was far from fresh, sloppy slop, and it was so crowded I had to sleep standing up!” hardly pausing for a breath, she continued, “And as for the ocean views, the darn truck headed east on the freeway toward some place called Kansas. To make matters worse, some bimbo riding with the driver was carrying a purse made from a sow’s ear and she had some kind of a Spam cookbook in it that looked suspicious to me. That’s when I jumped out.”

“You jumped out of a moving truck over twelve feet off the ground?”

“I did. Who needs it? I’m going to insist on a refund.”

The interview of the distraught pig was picked up on YouTube and got millions of views. In a Kansas meat-packing plant, the owner watched the video and called his attorney. “This is bad publicity. If this keeps up, no one will ever eat pig again. Call the legal department! Send that pig a contract and get her over here. Fly her out here first-class and bring her to me.”

And that was how Pigtunia flew cross-country in a first-class seat with a window view and swilled champagne all the way to Kansas.

But wait. It gets better. When she arrived, the owner of the packing plant took a close look at her and knew she was a very special pig. All of her parts were prime pig. In fact, she was much too good to butcher. The meat packer made her an offer she couldn’t refuse and Pigtunia found herself in a luxury pin with cable TV and 24/7 gourmet food service.

But wait. It gets even better. Pigtunia was visited once a year by the most handsome pig in the yard. He romanced her for days while she squealed with delight. Each year, when the time was right, Pigtunia gave birth to at least ten piglets, making her much more valuable than she would have ever been in the bacon department…

And, thus, a new romance genre for books was born: Mail Order Jumping Pig Brides.

The end

P.S. : At least every 13th word of this story is true, I swear!

(Illustration–such as it is–by author)

Christmas in the Goldfields

Merry Christmas! I’ve been in my Briar Patch this morning reading about other Christmases in times past. I found an interview of a man who was a miner in the 1849 Gold Rush with two partners. Due to a flood on a creek, they’d lost almost all of their provisions. They were despondent, hungry, and lonely. Their skillet was empty and they thought they were at least 100 miles from another living soul. When one of them remembered it was Christmas morning, they felt even worse. One of the miners, to cheer up his partners, played Santa Claus. With much flourish, he pulled out two small gold nuggets from inside his belt and gave one to each man. In the middle of the goldfields, this was a lot like giving someone a rock. When they were at their lowest, there came the musical chant of voices singing Adeste Fideles. They followed the sound and found four well-provisioned young men from Boston who shared food and song with them. On the menu: flapjacks fried in bacon grease, bootleg coffee, a Johnny Cake baked on a shovel, and a flask of spirits. I wish I could tell you more, but space is limited and I need to go look for a shovel…and a Johnny Cake recipe (source: Christmas in the Gold Fields, 1849- California Historical Society).

Happy Holidays to all, Janelle

See my books and stories!

Ribbons at Christmas, a story excerpt

Ribbons at Christmas
Janelle Meraz Hooper

Something for the wee ones. Merry Christmas!

Illustration by Sherri Bails

From the book There’s a Mouse in the House! An excerpt from a short story about a housecat named Ribbons who gets into trouble with the Christmas tree in the living room. When the adults yell at him, he runs to the basement to hide. Only Hannah can coax him back upstairs to join in the Christmas festivities. Ribbons at Christmas is just one of the stories in There’s a Mouse in the House!

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I write in several genres, see my books, stories, and plays here:
See my literary and romance books!

The Carpetbagger is the soul of Tacoma. A comment.

The Carpetbagger by Larry Anderson

Below is a reprint of a comment that was originally printed in the Tacoma News Tribune. I’m reprinting it because I saw the Carpetbagger again yesterday, and every time I see it, I feel the same excitement that I felt the first time I saw it standing so proudly in front of the restored train station. I hope you like it too.

The Soul of Tacoma is in the Carpetbagger
by Janelle Meraz Hooper

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For me, the soul of Tacoma is in the Carpetbagger. A sculpture donated to Tacoma by sculptor Larry Anderson, the Carpetbagger stands in front of the Union Station.

When it was first installed, Pacific Avenue was a rough area. I heard people commenting about how long can it last there? At the time, I was a member of the Pierce County Arts Commission and for days after it was installed, I drove by at odd hours just to make sure it was still there and unharmed.

While I’ve been on my affectionate “drive-bys”, I’ve seen it dusted with snow, and dampened by drizzle. I’ve seen people stop in their travels down the pavement to walk slowly all the way around the artwork to enjoy every curve and pattern of the bronze work. Many times, I’ve seen people of all sizes and shapes posing with it for a camera.

As far as I know, it has never suffered any damage by vandals, a testament to how beloved it is by people in all walks of life. That’s not to say it hasn’t been “modified”. From time to time, I’ve noticed his lapel adorned by daffodils or tulips. One time, I even saw a Burger King bag tucked underneath his arm. Once, in a pouring rain, I saw him draped in a plastic disposable raincoat.

It just proves to me that the people of Tacoma have taken the Carpetbagger into their hearts—and that Mr. Anderson may have sculpted the dapper man with the carpet bag under his arm, but the people of Tacoma have breathed life into it.

the end.