Snake on a Stick

As I get older, I feel that I might need a staff.  I carved this cedar limb with a man on top, custom grips for my fingers, leaves and a snake wrapped around the staff. 
http://charlessims.webs.com

Dawson Georgia Mural

This is an 8x16 ft mural that I painted for Dawson, Georgia.  The building behind the mules and peanut stack is the old fire station.  The couple is Don and Shelba Holmes, who contracted the mural.

South Dale

A few years ago I painted this onto the block wall of South Dale elementary school in Pinckard, Alabama.  It is 12 feet x 12 feet.

Eagle

This is an eagle painted onto a turkey feather.  The shadow box is 9x21 inches.  I painted this with acrylics.

Orchard Park

This is a small sandblasted sign that Sheila and I did for the entrance to a local subdivision.  Rocks were added later by masons.

Dale Earnhardt

This is a painting that I dad a couple years ago.  It is painted onto turkey feather, matted, under glass and framed in shadow box.

Old Friend

The brisk wind made the chill in the air even more noticeable.  Coming off a hot and humid summer, even the slightest drop in temperature was chilly.  I guess that is the reason that I paid attention yesterday when I visited  him. When I saw my friend, it suddenly hit me that he was not as young as he used to be.  His weight loss was disturbing, but I had seen it coming for a while.  It happened so slowly in front of my eyes that I did not notice it until he was a bag of bones.  When he and I first met over twenty years ago, he was a ball of fire.  Always running, never slowing down except to eat, and he loved to eat.  Over the years he never lost that energy and drive. 
     He was the most curious thing I had ever seen.  Everything amazed and interested him.  He would stick his nose in your business and dare you to do something about it.  Whenever we would go somewhere, he would get all the attention.  He was tall, black and in good condition.  He enjoyed all the attention as well, putting on airs, showing off for all to see.  Bob was my best friend and to see him so thin and depressed yesterday broke my heart.  He came over to where I was, with his head down and his eyes sunk back into his head.  His heart was heavy and I knew that he was heartsick.  Almost as if he knew that his time was slowly coming up.  I reached over and stroked his mane and told him that he probably would outlive me.  That statement did little to comfort him, but the sound of my voice helped.  He turned to Starbuck and stuck his tongue out at him.  Starbuck didn't care, just another reason to chase him in the morning.  And this morning they were both running side by side with the fence between them.  Maybe the talk did me some good as well.

Six Six Six

This is 18x24 inches, oil painted onto paper that I just finished.

Copperhead

  Yesterday Sheila and I celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary.  Our idea of fun is work.  We decided a couple of weeks ago that we close the shop and clean up the farm.  Last year my mom died and my two brothers and I inherited the place.  My side had  a gully at the bottom of the hill, just before you get to the creek.  During grandpa's working time, there was no garbage pickup or a junk yard for worn out farm implements.  So in the gully, out of mind.  When we unloaded the dogs, we began to pick up discarded roofing tin. Sheila had the great idea to take a couple of garden hoes to pull the tin up so we could grab it without bending.  I thought that was a wonderful idea, because snakes sometimes den under debris like that.  I did not however inform her of that.
     After a couple of hours we had that area clean, so we decided to go to the edge of woods next to the creek.  There next to a large hollow Oak was a small pile, that was covered in dirt.The dogs were sniffing around and digging at the tin.  I just thought they were after rats or chipmunks.  As soon as we started to pull dirt away and scrape the tin with the metal hoes, they left.  When Sheila screamed, I jumped.  There was a blue tailed skink about eight inches long, ran from under the tin over her feet.  After they danced for a few seconds the skink was able to break free and climbed the hollow Oak.  I thought it was funny even when Sheila threatened to whip my ass.  I returned to digging and saw something slither out from the tin to the right of me.  I will admit that it startled me.  It was an odd looking rat snake,  copper colored and no scales.  That's weird, I thought to myself and reached down to pick it up by the tail.  When I grabbed it, it shook away from my grip and went into a hole at the bottom of the tree.  Thank God for arthritic hands.
     "You stupid idiot!" Sheila exclaimed.
     "It's just a rat snake."
     "It's a snake."
     I chuckled to myself and went back to work.  Psalms 91 tells us that "thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder, the lion and dragon shalt thou trample under feet"
  I knew where it was and I could see it so I was not concerned.  All of a sudden a  larger one came slithering out.  I instinctively jumped back and I could see his head clearly.  It was a triangle.  I knew that it was not a moccasin, rattler or coral snake, but I knew that it was poisoness.  We decided that we did not need that piece of tin and left it laying.  I pulled the trailer out of the woods and to the top of the hill to tie the metal down.  Sheila told me, "I just realized that is a copperhead."
     I have lived for 63 years and never saw a copperhead, but I saw two yesterday, Sheila and I made several trips around the trailer adjusting the straps.  On the last trip I looked down and there was the largest pile of dog dookey that I had ever seen.  We had been all over it and never touched it.  I guess that we can trample a lot of things under feet safely.  Tomorrow we are going to get Sheila a pair of snake boots and I am going to wear mine.  Don't know what to do about picking the snakes up, regain my sanity I guess.
to read more of my life and see some of my art go to blackwhiteinthesouth.blogspot.com

Big Al

Mascot for the University of Alabama, that I carved out of cedar.  It is 12 inches tall and 6 inches wide.

Rip's Adventure (changing name to *Tom A Hawk*

"Here is a good place to rest." said Mike as he stepped through the wall.
     When they walked in behind him, they could see that it was just a hole in the wall.  Partly because of the small size and partly because of the sign above the bar, "The Hole in the Wall Saloon".   Tom was overjoyed to finally be able to sit down and rest.  He was going to order a Jack Daniels and coke.  He did not look up when the waitress walked over.  "Tom, Tom A Hawk, is that you?"  she asked.
     Tom looked up and saw the most beautiful sight ever created.  A young Indian maid, bright red skin, long black hair, braided on each side of her lovely face.  Her big dark eyes and slender figure that made even the red skinned Tom blush even brighter.  Tom was speechless, taken aback by this beautiful sight.  It was his beloved Red bud, that had been killed by a bear, years ago.  Jumping up, he grabbed her, pulled her close and squeezed and squeezed.
     "Tom, let me breathe,"  she laughed.
     "I have missed you for so long."  he said, with tears streaming down his face.  "I wanted to die after you were gone."
     "I know, I could see you for a while, but then I had to go.  I thought I would never see you again.
     Tom and Red bud grabbed a table in the back, talked, and held each other for a long while. Rip, Orson, Mike and Jack the Ripper sat in silence and drank a lot of Jack Daniels.  So much had happened over the last few days that the bourbon had little effect on them.  Jack was feeling remorse for what he had done in White Chapel.  The guilt was eating him alive, but what bothered him even more was knowing that he would do it again.
     Rip was missing his home in the Dutch Hills country in Pennsylvania.  What wonderful yarns he could spin when he returned.  Orson was keeping a journal of the events as they happened.
  When the door opened, Mike slumped down in his seat and hid behind his glass.  Rip, Orson and Jack followed suit.  They knew if Mike was apprehensive, there was good reason.  The figure that walked in was not that impressive.  Small of stature, bent over at the waist, supporting himself with a crooked staff.  His white hair and beard, just barely visible under the black hood of the long black robe, cinched together with a serpent that was tied into a bow in the front.  He barely raised his cold black eyes as he looked for a place to sit, knowing he could sit anywhere he wanted.  There was a dark heavy cloud over his head that blocked out the already dim light of the bar.
     Tom, who was unaware of the new patron, was surprised by the sudden darkness.  "Hey, who turned out the lights?"  he shouted in a booming voice.
     The old man stopped in his tracks, casting his deadly gaze in Tom's direction.  Thunder and lightening erupted from the cloud.

Texaco

I broke two longstanding rules on this project.  For thirty five years I did not give price on phone and I did not work on someone else's panels.  However all turned out well, since I love doing this type of work and no paint pulled away from the panel.

Rip's Adventure

     For days, it seemed, they slowly moved through the stream of time.  There was really no way to tell if they were there for minutes, days or years.  No one said much,  all were trying to forget what they had witnessed.  Just trying to sort out what was happening to them.  Mike stopped on the side of the tunnel where a lot of activity was taking place.  There were hundreds of souls entering into the tunnel.  It was a steady stream of dirty, starved and naked people with hardly any meat on their bones.  All had a look of hopelessness and despair in their faces and broken and bent bodies.  All were choking and coughing, relieved to be breathing again.
     "Corporal, this is your door."  Mike said almost with relief to be rid of Corporal Shirah.  Shirah stepped forward, eager for the new adventure that awaited him.  As the portal opened, they could see several sets of train tracks, converging into one spot.  A sign over the tracks proclaimed "Aushwitz".  Shirah was beside himself.  He had not felt this excited for a long time.  He felt that he could go in and kill and maim people as Jack had done and come back in again.
     "Shirah, this is where we say goodbye."  Mike stated.  "It has taken us years to try and change you, but we were unsuccessful.  You are still one of the most evil beings to have ever lived.  Your name was changed in here to protect you while we had you in custody.  However when you enter into your own time, you will revert to your own name.  In here you had a chance to do great things because of your charisma , but your ego and  ambition got in the way.  When you enter, you will be known as Hitler."
     Hitler gave an evil grin, shot them a bird and stepped through into infamy.
     "Good riddance!" exclaimed Jack.  And they all agreed.

Rip's Adventure WARNING STRONG SEXUAL DEVIANT

As they cont8inued forward the tunnel cleared up and became smooth again.  They could other groups going by in a blur, not clear enough to make out any details.  They were caught up in different currents of time. 
     "Don't worry about them," said Mike, there are millions of people and guides in here at any given time."
  It seemed like an enormous time had passed when Mike stopped.  "Are any of you tired and hungry? he asked.
     "Yeah!"  was the chorus.
     As they followed Mike through the side of the tunnel, they entered a large dining hall.  There were hundreds of people sitting around eating, drinking and making merry.
     "This is a safe house and we will rest here for a while."  informed Mike.
     As they sat down, the waiter came over to take their order.  All of them ordered Jack Daniels bourbon and tried to forget the last few days.  Tom and Rip looked around and saw a couple of women sitting in a nearby booth.  They walked over and struck up a conversation with them.  Rip ordered a bottle of Jack Daniels and they got acquainted.  Evidently the women had been lonely for a while also.
     Jack was afraid of women and steered clear of them.  He was becoming increasingly depressed by this.  The fact that Corporal Shirah had removed his legs did not help.  His depression was beginning to turn to anger and was directed to everyone.  Mike could sense this and knew that he had to take him home soon.  He did not like what was going to happen but there was nothing he could do to stop it.  After all he had his orders.
     "Come on gang, time to go." and Mike got up to leave.  As they left the safe room Jack felt a sense of foreboding.  It was if he knew he was loosing his friends and would never see them again.  He did wish that he had the courage to beat the shit out of the Corporal for what he had done, but he did not.  He would regret that for the rest of his life.
     "Here you are Jack, right back where you stared." said Mike with apprehension.  "Go through the door and we will wait for you.  Don't forget where you went in."
     Jack opened the door and stepped into Whitechapel London, in 1988.  Jack was not surprised.  It was just as he remembered it.  A dark street with just a few gaslights casting shadows all around.  A creepy place that would bring panic to someone not used to it.  Then he saw her walking out of the shadows headed his way.
     "Hey stranger" she tried to be cheerful, but Jack's appearance made that impossible.  A small thin man with a long body and short legs and arms did not bring forth the usual "Hey handsome" that other John's got.
     That incensed Jack and he reached out instinctively with his long knife and sliced her throat.  The blood gushed everywhere.  It struck Jack in the face and mouth and he drank it down as quick as he could.  This drove him wild and he cut her from the throat to her crotch.  The gurgling of blood from her slit throat made him giddy with excitement.  He had an immediate hard on and came in his pants.  He liked it.  The smell of her opened bowels was like a drug and he could not get enough.  He took his knife and sliced off her breasts,  Rubbing them on his face the blood oozed onto his skin.  When the nipple entered his mouth he came again.  Her screams mixed with his sexual grunts had cause a commotion.  As neighbors came rushing him with pitchforks and axes, Jack stumbled backward and landed in the tunnel.
      "Jack, you know you will have to do this several more times."  said Mike.
      "I can't wait! exclaimed Jack.
     Rip and Orson were devastated by what their friend had done.  Corporal Shirah was as excited as Jack and his face was flushed red with sexual excitement.  Tom was disgusted and angry.  He had seen enough killing in the war.  He didn't like it then and he certainly did not like this.
     "Mike, can't we keep him in the tunnel with us until he gets over this spell he is under? asked Tom
     "We  can and will, but he will escape from time to time."
      They turned and walked up the tunnel.

Rip's Adventure (continuing)

Mike walked over to Jack and wrapped him in an odd looking blanket for a few moments.  The blood stopped and Jack's face began to look better.  The life was coming back into him.  When Mike pulled the blanket off him, his wounds were healed, but his legs were still gone.
     "Looks like I will have to learn to walk like the rest of you now." he said. 
     Mike turned to walk off and the five followed him.  The air was alive with the crackle of electrical charges and the visual field was fractured.  After a few steps, everything cleared up.  They were in a light filled tunnel that stretched out as far as they could see.  The height was taller than even the mightiest of Oaks.  It seemed that all sound was muffled and movement was at a stand still.  Moving was easy and effortless, but in slow motion.  The effect was dizzying to Rip and he had to stop for a moment and squat with his head between his knees.  The others were glad for that short break.  They could clear their heads without being the weak one.
     "What is this place?" Jack asked.
     "Yeah?" chimed in Rip
    "This is a planetary highway,"  answered Mike, "In here we can cover vast distances in little or no time."
     "How does that work?" asked Orson.
    "In here time is like a river, fluid and alive.  If you know how to navigate it, and I do, you can go into the past, present or future."  replied Mike.  "The possibilities are endless.  The past, present or future have infinite dimensions, depending on where we go in or out."
     As they walked and talked, they noticed the side gradually change from smooth & shiny conduit to a rough and broken rock wall with steep broken fissures running up and down.  They began to hear children crying and screaming.  When they looked up they could see them being thrown over the cliffs.  Some were able to slide down the fissures, but most were not in control at all.  As they hit the bottom there were broken bones and death.  The ones left alive screamed as others were thrown over. 
     "Keep your heads down and don't look up!" exclaimed Mike.
     "Why?" they all asked in unison.
     "That is pure evil up there, and if those spirits see you, I can't protect you."
     Tom could not help himself.  Those poor kids needed help and he was gonna give it.  He was not at all prepared for what he saw at the summit.  There were three of them looking at him.  One was white faced in a black robe and hood.  The hatred in his red eyes was undeniable.  The other was red with no clothes at all.  For a moment Tom felt a sense of relief, but that died away when he saw the evil black eyes.  Then he could see that the third was a mix of the other two.  They were all one, joined together at the chest.  The air was dark and thick around them smelling of sulfur and making it hard to breathe.  Tom felt fear for the first time in his life and he did not like it.
    "I'll be right back." he said in a determined voice.
    He started up the steep hill.  It was easy going at first, so he felt pretty good.  About three quarters of the way up the rocks turned into loose sand.  The beast was sitting like a vulture, looking at him in astonishment.  No one had ever tried to reach them before, and this was making them nervous.  Almost within reach of the summit, the loose sand became slippery mud that sucked his feet down. Tom was in a struggle for his life now.  Heroically he pulled himself up and onto the hard surface at the top of the cliff.  The beast threw evil at him with all they had.  Tom ducked, jumped, bounced and dodged it all without getting hit.  The more they missed, the more that they tried.  Years of inactivity had made them slow in movement and that worked to Tom's advantage.  He grabbed a stone and hurled it with all his might.  The stone struck the beast in the chest where they were all joined together.  The sudden jolt startled the three headed beast.  The surrounding air went dark and lightening struck at Tom's feet knocking him to the bottom of the cliff.  When he awoke, the beast was gone.     Mike and the others rushed over to offer him help.
     "Are you ok?" asked Rip.
     "Yeah, just let me get my shit pulled back into a pile."
     "I have never seen anything like that in my life!" exclaimed Mike with wonder in his voice.  "You are indeed a credit to your warrior race."
      "Thanks Mike, Where did they go?"
     "I don't know, but I'm sure they will be back."
     "Let's help the kids."  said Orson.
     When they looked around, the kids could not be found anywhere.
     "Let's hope thy don't encounter the beast again.  Looks like they have  been trapped here for a while going over and over this trap."  said Mike.
     "Let's get the hell out of here!" exclaimed Corporal Shirah.
     "Don't be in such a hurry Corporal." said Mike.  "Where you are going is a hell of a lot worse.  For you and Millions of others."
     Corporal Shirah was a afraid to ask any questions.  Little did he know that Mike was telling the truth and not just trying to frighten him.  What does Mike know, he thought to himself?
    

The Mighty Oak

Apple trees produce apples, orange trees produce oranges, pecan trees produce pecans.  Cherry trees produce cherries & Walnut trees produce wall nuts.  So why do Oak trees produce acorns?  Shouldn't they produce oakrons?  Or maybe change the name of Oak to Acorn. 

Going Home

 

I am continuing to play with acrylic on drawing paper.
 

Psalm 91

King James Version (KJV)

91 He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

² I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
³ Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
⁴ He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
⁵ Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
⁶ Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
⁷ A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
⁸ Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
⁹ Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;
¹⁰ There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
¹¹ For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
¹² They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
¹³ Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.
¹⁴ Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.
¹⁵ He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
¹⁶ With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.

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King James Version (KJV) by Public Domain

Psalm 91 X

Bible Gateway Recommendations

Running Boy

I reworked the boy running on the painting Dirt Road.  I am happier with this one.  Acrylic on paper.

Suicide Demon

Here's that old demon
created with corrupt semen.
Coming in close, calling his name, Jack
smiling while slapping me on the back,
as if I am a friend.
When all he wants is my life's end
I thought I had this licked
but, now is the time he has picked,
to come back with all his might
to give me such a fright.
He is a cowardly turd
coming at me with more than a word.
Reminding me of the day,
when we watched our children play.
Our daughters, two,
turned their backs on me and you.
Our life to them we devoted,
now our hearts, they have exploded.
Who would have thought
that their love could be bought
by lies and deception.
All now is the perception
of a life of waste,
given up in such a haste.
All is gone wrong,
I wish that I could sing a song
and kill this sorry shit.
With a powerful hit
between his cold dark eyes
and end his stupid lies.
I would cover his body with a giant boil
and set him on fire with Chinese castor oil.
I would let all to a better life pass
but not his sorry ass.

24 Hour Fitness

22.75x41 inch sandblasted sign.  Artwork provided by I D Associates in Dothan, Alabama.  Production done by me at C and S Signs, Cowarts, Alabama.

Dirt Road 2

Bagwell

Large dump truck that I just lettered for Bagwell Landscaping in Cowarts, Alabama

Community

New van that I lettered for funeral home in Blakely, Ga.

St. Mathis Baptist church

This is a 3x6x7' aluminum sign produced by me at C and S Signs.

Rip's Adventure, The Next Saga

Daylight came into view slowly, getting brighter and brighter.  All the soldiers were laying around the campfires warming and drinking what passed for coffee.  Rip, Tom, Orson and Jack were at one fire together, reliving the wild night.  Every once in a while one of them would smile and another would chuckle.  Rip was unusually still.  His excitement had waned , but there was still a gleam in his eyes. 
     "Didn't you have a good night?" asked Tom.
     "More than you know.  When we can talk openly, I have some exciting news."
     "Come on let's hear it."  chimed in Orson, who thought it was about the woman Rip was with last night.
   "No, this is much to important for anyone to overhear."
    They realized that Rip was not going to talk until he was ready.  They also know that everyone would scatter soon to find relief from the sun.  As they went about their morning routine, the anticipation grew.  Soon they had to move and it was not apparent that they moved farther away than normal.  Rip motioned them in close as if he could keep them away.
     "Last night Sheila gave me a message."
     "What's this?" asked Jack, "These women don't have names."
     "Well this one does and what she wrote down is a shocker.  There is a group on the other side that has been watching us.  They know that we have not been fighting the last few battles."
     "Just as the ones that we saw" Tom said with a question.
     "Yeah, and they want to know what we know." replied Rip.
     "How?"  asked Orson.   
     "We'll have to find something to write on and leave it on the field."
     While they talked, Jack had taken some left over grits from breakfast and dropped them on the dirt.  He mixed them up with the sandy soil and shaped them into a small brick.  It was almost the color of the dirt and could be confused with a rock.  Jack turned the lump over to the flat side and carefully scribed, "I am Jack" into the soft mixture.  It hardened up in a few moments.  Jack slid the little brick into the middle of the conversation.  Rip looked down and the smile on his face was contagious.
     "Write on there a time to meet and I will take it over there tonight."  said Tom.
      "You are too big and clumsy."  said Jack.  With my eight legs I can move so slowly that they will never see or hear me coming."
      As the heat of the day turned to night the excitement could be cut with a knife.  When the last of the campfires burned out and a stillness settled over the camp, Jack picked up the brick.  He started over the earthworks and after a few feet, the three lost sight of him.  He was so light that they could not hear him either. 
     Rip was pacing up and down muttering to himself.  Tom was popping his fingers.  Orson finally had enough and reached out to Rip and stopped him.  He walked over to Tom and grabbed his hands.
     "Thanks Orson, my hands were beginning to hurt."
     "How far did he have to go?" Rip wondered out loud.
     They sat upright with a jolt.  The screams were close and loud.  They ran to the sounds of pain.  Lord, what a sickening sight.  Corporal Shirah had Jack pinned to the ground.  Jack's head was bleeding from where Shirah had clubbed him from behind.  Then the real horror came into sight.  Jack's legs were scattered around.  Blood was pouring from Jack's body.  His legs had been pulled out at the sockets and the skin was torn and bleeding.  Just as Tom reached Shirah, he pulled the fourth leg out.  The sucking pop of the bone being pulled from the socket had Tom's skin blazing bright red.  He caught Shirah by the throat and began to squeeze the life out of him.  Shirah's legs were dangling off the ground and his kicking was slowing.  Rip and Orson were standing by dumbfounded.
     "Tom, let him go, it's not yet his time."  The voice was not loud, but the authority of it could not be mistaken.  Tom relaxed his grip and and looked around to the sound of the voice.  What he saw caused him to fall to his knees.  Walking towards him was an awe inspiring sight.  Long golden hair, light skin, tall and with wings stretched to the heavens.  His long black coat just inches off the ground.  His right arm was stretched toward Tom, with the palm turned out.  His left arm clutched a book to his chest.  Tom could see him clearly, even though a bright light was shining behind him. 

Jefferson Island Salt

In 1957 I visited my cousins in Pinckard, Alabama.  It was a typical small southern town with nothing much to do , but walk around and try to stay in the shade.  As I rounded the front of the store, I saw a sight that was completely alien to me.  There was a man painting a sign on the side of the building.  I did not know that anything could be done like that.  I thought all work had to be done in the fields.  These men traveled the countryside and painted advertisements wherever they could.  They were called walldogs.  I knew that I wanted to do something like that for a living and lo and behold that is what I did.  I was lucky enough that I lived near a large enough town that I made a pretty good living at it.

Guy Walton Carlile

My grandfather worked hard all of his life, mostly in the row crop business.  He had always had a few cows in the pasture at the bottom of his property.  Later in life he relaxed on the row crops and took  a bigger interest in the cattle.  Just beside his house he fenced in three or four acres and put in thirty or forty yearlings.  To fatten cattle up you have to feed them a lot of protein.  All that feed has to be processed.  My brother Wayne came home from Birmingham to visit and brought his friend, Gregg.  Being a city boy, Gregg had smelled some pretty bad stuff, but he had never smelled that much manure in one spot before.  "Mr. Carlile,  how can you stand to smell all that cow shit?" he asked.  Grandpa just gave that grin and said, "It smells like money to me, boy."  He called all young people boy or girl, depending.

Rip's Adventure 3

Time drags on ever so slowly.  Days turn to nights and nights turn to days.  The only difference is the  light and darkness.  No one sleeps and everyone is half awake.  How long have they been here?  They don't know and every body is depressed.  The sense of foreboding is strong and palpable.  There are other people around but close connections like brother and brother and husband and wife are impossible. 
     Rip, Tom and Orson hang out, but the depression hovering overhead takes the joy out of their friendship.  They talk of many things, however Cpl. Shirah, this hellhole, and the establishment  dominate the conversation.  Who are the beings that have brought them here and what do they want?  The generals have never been seen but the soldiers know they exist.  Why don't the show themselves? 
     "Tom, when we are in battle, do you fire your weapon?" asked Rip.
     "You know, now that I think about it, I don't have one." he replied.
     "Me either." chimed in Orson " don't think I have seen the other side fire either."
    "That's strange, who is killing us?"  asked Tom.
    "Instead of fighting, next time let's find out." said Rip.
     They did not have long to wait.  Waves of the enemy soldiers poured over the earthworks.  The sound of their screaming was to loud to concentrate.  Even after fighting them for so long, the noise was unbearable.  Trying to stay alive and follow the path of the lasers was a lot for the trio to do.  The blasts of light came so fast it was hard to trace the origin.  They did notice one strange event.  There was a small group of the opposing force that were not fighting, but just looking around.  Just as Tom, Rip and Orson were doing, so were they.  Then something truly disturbing.  Only a few had weapons but they were not using them.  One of these was Cpl. Shirah.  The laser blasts were getting farther and farther apart and the retreat order was given.  Someone of the other side must have realized what was going on and gave the retreat signal.
     This war was tiresome and everyone just  relaxed where they were.  As soon as they could recover some energy, they would head back to their spot.  Now though they just lay down on the ground and breathed a sigh of relief that they had not perished.
     "Did you see what I saw?"  asked Rip?"
     Tom and Orson nodded in agreement. Knowing what they saw, gave them hope that they could come up with a plan.  Whatever it turned out to be, they knew it had to involve the group on the other side.  But how?
     "I think that we need to sneak over there at night."  said Tom the braver of the three.
     "That's to dangerous." said Rip, the more cautious of them.
     "Maybe so,"said Orson "but we don't have a choice.  First we have to identify who they are."
    "How?" asked Rip.
     "I am thinking."
     They were interrupted by the sounds of the Tennessee Waltz wafting over the dark landscape.  That made everyone forget what they were doing.  Like a Pavlov dog, they all had a glow on their faces.  It was going to a wild time in the camp tonight.  Every so often, the establishment would bring in females to keep them company.  Rip used to think that it was to keep everyone happy, but now he was not so sure.  It was if the establishment knew what they were discussing, and it could be even more sinister than that.  Either way he was glad for the diversion. 
     Being so long without companionship makes even the most homely, attractive.  Such was the thought of the woman who was paired up with Rip.  After the ravishing was finished, Rip tried to talk to the woman.  "What is your name?" he asked.  She just looked at him and smiled.
     "Why don't you answer?"  She just rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but nothing came out.  She motioned again, this time on her knees on the soft dry dirt.  Rip joined her and she began to write in the smooth soil.  "Are you trying to write?" Rip stupidly asked.  She smiled again and wrote some more.  He could not make out what she was writing, but he was so excited he squealed like a hog.
     "What are you up to Rip?" asked Cpl. Shirah, coming up from behind the two.
    "Just having some fun, Cpl., just having some fun."  Before the Cpl. got there, Rip shuffled his feet to erase the writings.  He could hardly contain his excitement and blamed it on the wild sex.  Cpl. Shirah looked at him with disgust and moved on.  When he was out of earshot, Rip tried to get her to write again.

Rip Two

    Rarely did they see the enemy.  No man's land was only a couple hundred yards wide and everyone stayed behind and below the dirt barricades.  When they did see them, there was no time to study their appearance.  Dodging green lasers and someone trying to knife you was not conducive to studying.The enemy did not seem that different though.  A few may have two heads or double limbs and maybe different colored skin but everyone bled the same.  No one seemed that interested in killing anyone though.  It just seemed as if everyone was trying to survive.  This was not a war that anyone had a vested interest in other than staying alive, so mostly they all stayed in the trenches.
     Entertainment has changed little since war began eons ago.  Makeshift card tables were set up all along the trenches.  Five card no draw was the favorite game.  There was no money, so anything went, from bragging rights to the shoes on their feet.  Rip was the most popular player, for he would entertain the solders with stories.  Some were disturbing, but most were of a young man in Dutch Pennsylvania.
     He was a lazy gent that had no ambition whatsoever.  He would go to the local tavern and drink well into the night, hoping that his nagging wife was asleep when he got home.  He was never that lucky though.  After tending to the children all day and having to save a cold supper that she had slaved over she could not go to sleep.  So when he finally staggered in, she was pissed.  The young man was tall and gangly, with arms to long for his body, a small head and a pot belly made him popular with the children of the village.  Before he went to the tavern he would tell the children in the town square of his Indian exploits.  In his eyes he was the only one that could fight the Indians and win.
     His wife married him because he had money, but laziness and bad business dealing left her disappointed and broke.  The more she nagged, the more he stayed away.  Since he could not spend the night at the tavern, he began to wander into the mountains on the outskirts of the town.
    "I wish that I could escape this place and go into the mountains with that fella." mused Tom.
     "Me too, Tom." replied Rip, "What you got?"
     Orson and Justin threw their hands away in disgust.
     "Pair of sixes, Jack high."  Tom said.
    "To bad," smiled Rip.  "I have three deuces and a couple of Queens."
    All of a sudden, Tom jumped up, overturning the table showering cards in all directions.  Every one scattered, thinking that Tom was upset about losing the hand.  But when he threw Jack across the yard, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, except Jack.  Jack was the smallest of the group and had eight legs.  He had slowly eased up behind Tom and pinched him on his bright red butt.  Tom was afraid of nothing but spiders and Jack took advantage of that every chance he got.
     "One day Jack,  one day."  Tom sheepishly said.
    Jack gave that mischievous grin and everyone laughed.

Rip's Adventure

 At the loud piercing scream of pain, Rip looked over to his right.  The soldier's arm disintegrated and he passed out.  This was supposed to be a more humane war.  Guns and bullets were obsolete and the pain with them.  Such was not the case.  Just ask anyone who survived the lasers.  There was less blood, but the wounds were more severe.  What did not get cut off clean, fried and fell off later. Other than that, war was the same as it had always been; men screaming in fear and pain, praying and a lot of cussing.  The smells were the same, unwashed bodies, bad breath, the wind bringing in the Oder of the latrines  and rotting flesh. 
     Most men signed up for war to protect home and country, but this war was different.  The army was a collection of different beings from planets across the galaxy.  They did not even realize what happened to them.  Just woke up one morning and were at the battlefield, with no memory of the past or how they arrived here.  All of them responded to their name, but that was all they knew.
     "Get down, Rip, don't forget where you are!"  Orsen yelled.
     "Thanks" Rip replied.
     "Did you know him?" asked Orsen.
     "No, he just got here I think, what about you?"  Rip replied.
     "No, but I think he was from Earth.  They should really train us better before they just throw us in here."  Orsen said,
     "We are just bodies to them, they could care less if we live or die." replied Rip.
     "Yeah" said Orsen, and with that the settled in for the night.  The two lost souls watched the fireworks on the horizon and dreaded the morning.
     The only thing worse than war at night is war in the daylight.  In the pre-dawn light hell was slowly coming into view.  Broken ships and vehicles were ghostly images.  As the dawn brightened the real horrors came into focus.  Hundreds of bodies strewn around, stacked on top of each other.  Some with heads, some without, some with arms, some without.  Some cut into and some with no visible wounds at all, but all were dead.
     "Such a waste, and for what?"  Rip heard Orsen say under his breath.  No need for a reply so Rip just nodded his head in agreement.  However it caused him to think, what is this for?  They never saw the officers and very seldom did they see the enemy.  Just day after day of being trapped in this hell, watching men die or worse, getting wounded and not dying.  Listening to the screams, cussing and praying was enough to make a man crazy.
     Rip and Orsen were humans from earth, but their friend Tom was not.  His bright red skin and stocky build made him an imposing sight.  He was a fierce warrior, afraid of nothing and always heading for the front.  He was a gentle giant though that protected his friends.  He had been hit a couple of glancing blows from the lasers and suffered no harm.  They are saving me for hand to hand." he said and gave a great guttural laugh.  Rip, Orsen and Tom had formed a close relationship over the last few months.  That was frowned on by the establishment and corporeal Shirah set out to destroy it. 
     Cpl. Shirah was a jackass and lorded his will over the men.  He was a short, fat bald ass and had the long ears and buckteeth to look the part.  "You three are to split up or die!"  he hee-hawed.  Too many warriors becoming friends was a threat to the establishment and would not be tolerated.  The heavy fighting of the last few days had led to cpl. Shirah not being able to follow up.  Not only was he a short, fat balding ass he was a nasal whiner.  "Chicken shit" was Tom's assessment of him.  The cpl. had been here a long time and should be used to the war by now.  However loud and boisterous he was, he could not hide the fear in his eyes.  The more he compensated for it the more apparent it became. 

Turkey Feather

Once I find these feathers, it is hard to keep the turkey still long enough to pluck it.  This is a 3 inch by 6 inch tertiary tail feather painted with acrylics.

Garden Path Inn

In Columbia, Alabama stands an old house with a tower on it.  For years the locals called the Killingsworth house.  A few years ago, a nice couple, the Normans, bought it to restore.  As that task was successfully completed, they turned it into a bed and breakfast.  They chose me to do a sign for them and saw other drawings in my shop.  They commissioned me to do a drawing and we then incorporated it into the sign.

Wiregrass Federal Credit Union

This is another collaboration between myself and I D Associates.  They provided the artwork and Sheila and I produced the sign.  It is a 4'x6' panel, sandblasted background with raised letters.  The fun part was painting the fade on the eagle.

William's Chapel

Nice 4x8 aluminum sign for William's Chapel A. M. E. Church in Gordon, Alabama.  It actually was only a mile or so from the Florida state line.  Sheila and I built and installed this last summer and it was hot.

Wallace College

Before and after pictures of new campus police car for Wallace Community College.   I thought that it turned out pretty well.  Seems that I am doing more and more striping lately.

My Friend Bob

     Next month Bob will turn 20 years old.  He has always been a wild sort of character, but he and I get along really well.  When I bought his mother, I did not know that she was pregnant.  He was a wonderful surprise.  We have had some wonderful adventures together.  This photo is of him when he was three or four years old.  Time has been kind to him and he is "as healthy as a horse."

Egyptian Headache

Some days this is just the way that I feel.  Talk about pressure on your head.  This is a cedar wall plaque that I carved.  It is 12x6 x2 1/2 inches.

Office Depot

This sandblasted sign was for an Office Depot.  It is 2 feet by 4 feet.  I am not sure of the location.  I take the artwork from I D Associates in Dothan, Alabama, transform it into a sign.  I D Associates then takes the finished sign, do their magic to it and then install it.  I think that it turned our rather well.

Rose Marie II

This is a very nice Cape Cod 24' boat.  Ken and Rose Marie Jackson were kind enough to let me letter it for them.  The detail shows a colorful sailfish.  I had fun with this project.

Welcome to Ashford

This is another welcome sign.  The sign is 6 and one half foot high and 13 feet wide.  The panel is 4x8x4" granite.  It is hard to see in the photo, but Ashford is home to a historic train depot.  Ashford is in the southeast corner of Alabama.  The sign sits on highway 84 east of Ashford.  Only one of the two signs has been installed.  Waiting for landowner to donate land on the west side of Ashford.  This is another sign produced by me at C and S Signs.

Welcome to Cowarts

This 4x8'sandblasted sign sitting on brick welcomes visitors and passersby to the town of Cowarts, Alabama,  Located just east of Dothan, Alabama, it is a small sleepy town.  C & S Signs completed this project a couple of years ago.  The sign was just installed because it took 2 years of bureaucratic red tape to put it beside a federal highway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Ronnie's

This is a 20'x10' metal sign that we recently finished for Ronnie's Men & Boy's Wear in Cowarts, Alabama.  The Levi panel is a changeable panel that we will put another brand on later.

C & S Signs  334-792-8273

Just Five More Minutes

     Out of the cold black void of nothing, I suddenly appear.  It is a struggle to keep the piss off my legs.  Standing over the toilet, it is difficult to get a good stream.  It comes out like a golden shower, going everywhere.  My pants legs are soaked.  I am standing ankle deep in human waste, trying to stay balanced on my toes.  At this stage in my life, balance is not what it used to be.  I just give up and stand flat footed.  This has to be the nastiest place in God's creation.  How did I arrive here?  There are no roads in or out.  The coach walks by and says, "Hurry, or lock up when you leave."  Not wanting to be here by myself, I answer,  "I am leaving now."  and painfully cut off the golden shower.
     As I walked out the door, I come upon a large crowd on a hill.  The smell of the toilet was replaced by fresh air and fried fish and baked bread.  Everyone was looking at the man holding up the fish and bread to God, asking for his blessing.  As they passed out the food, we were told to take as much as we could eat and more if we wanted.  When the crowd leaves, I wander aimlessly up the freshly plowed, sandy field.  Every few steps I notice small trees in the sandy soil.  They have short stocky limbs with sharp leaves.  The whole tree is covered with spider webs.  There are theses trees in every direction as far as I can see.  They all have the same characteristics; short stocky limbs, sharp leaves, covered in spider webs with half eaten bugs.
     "Charles" I heard Sheila softly calling my name.  I looked around for her, but could not find her anywhere.  "Yeah baby, where are you?" I ask.  I did not yell for I knew she was close by.
     "Right here by the spider eating the frog's stomach.  As I heard her answer, she slowly appeared in the tree, covered by spider webs.  I reached up, grabbed her hand and helped her down.  We walked slowly uphill, holding hands neither of seemed scared or upset by what had just happened.  There was no effort or fatigue, even though we had been walking uphill for a long time.  We turned to look back at where we had been and we were surprised to learn that it was uphill.  If we turned to the left it was uphill.  If we turned to the right, it was uphill.  If we turned to the front, it was uphill.  We are not discouraged, we have eternity to reach the top.  We can't see the top, but we have faith it is there.  When we stop to rest, we are in a flat level space.  As soon as we start walking again, it is uphill.  The scenery does not change.  It is twi light, but we can see clearly.
     The dark purplish light changes ever so slightly.  It becomes a warm golden glow at the top.  Suddenly it becomes so bright that I open my eyes.  At that moment the alarm goes off.  I am way to tired to go to work, so I hit the snooze button.  I lay there ant ponder what just happened.  I always thought that when you dreamed you were peeing, that you actually were.  I am glad that in this case that it wasn't true.  That would surely piss Sheila off.

Corn Cob War

     Back in the late fifties entertainment was where you found it.  In the hot August days just before school, it did not take much to entertain us.  By that time the red wasps were so wound up that if you went anywhere close to their nest, they would attack.  I think it was the hot sultry days of Dog Days, but it could also be that by that time they were tired of being picked on.  We had a ready supply of corn cobs at our disposal and by that time the crops were not needing attention.  Benny and Kenny Nowell, my brother Benny and I would gather a quantity of cobs to use as weapons.

     Getting stung was unpleasant, but the one with the most stings at the end of the day had bragging rights.  We were careful not to let Granny catch us throwing cobs at the wasps.  She would give us hell and then if were stung, she would cover the sting with her snuff.  I don't know if that helped the sting or the wet spit took our mind off  the pain.  Grandpa liked for us to knock the nests down, for it helped him not to be stung so often.  Any way we had a grand old time fighting the wasps.
     This was my grandfather's barn that he built in 1957.  It still stands today, but is in bad condition.