Meet Nick Baldass in Chapter Two of Lards - By N.L. Belardes
While the New York Times downsizes and the Bakersfield Californian spreads its tentacles thinly across the reaches of cyberspace, nlbelardes.com continues to grow at a rapid pace. In fact, we’re adding to the staff here by taking on a few new members who can help capture the blogosphere real estate that local niche markets covet.
No longer will the Paperback Writer blog just be the naughty voice of an author on the prowl for happenings on the Streets of Bakersfield. Paperback Writer is going to be a new beast…
OK, what I fed you was a load of crap. What I really want your attention for is to share with you part two of the mystery MoonPie spoof of my novel, Lords: Part One.
Yes, I have been accused of writing the spoof, Lards Part One. No, I don’t know who is writing Lards. I tried my darnedest to weed the wiley spoofer from hidden corners of the blogosphere with kind letters, but I failed. No response. The writer's identity is firmly hidden, tucked away like a dastardly Lord of Bakersfield. I have to idly sit by and wait in line for the next installment of Lards Part One.
Read on as you get to meet a very interesting and decrepit character, Nick Baldass…
LARDS PART 1
CHAPTER 2 (Getting to Bakersfield, known as the MoonPie® Mecca).
“Hey fat boy, want some chow?” came a voice from an ice cream snack truck that had just pulled up. Fatty stood in the burger parking lot, his hands in his left pocket, belly hunched, and with the hungry look on his face that Chubsy told him to always have. “Be the damn Porky Pig ®” Chubsy had told him.
“Who?”
“I dunno. Some dead cartoon pig with a star on the WB ® toons walk of fame.”
“What kind of snacks you got?” Fatty said hoggishly to the driver/vendor.
“I got the sweet, carbo stuff. I got Twinkies-soft and sweet. Whatever. You look like an obese kid, kinda hungry though.”
“Oh I ain’t hungry. I am full! That last 24-pack of Ding-Dongs hit the spot.”
“Maybe you’re hungry for something moon shaped?”
At that point the snack truck driver made his move. “Okay fat boy, no more messin’ around. Get in the back of the truck. The Mayor of Bakersfield is holding a MoonPie ® eating contest at the Bakersfield bell tower tomorrow and I need you to win it for me!”
Fatty looked astounded. “Why didn’t you just say so!” And into the rear of the snack truck: it listed to the left. It was a converted old Helms Bakery ® jobber. The truck sped off like a bat out off hell, nicely packed, to hold in freshness and goodness; food snacks were flying everywhere. At one time, not long ago, a fleet of 300 Helms Bakery ® vans cruised the neighborhoods of the Los Angeles area summoning people with their distinctive whistles to purchase bread and pastries. The center of this operation was the Helms Bakery ® building on Venice Boulevard in Culver City (still located there with original Helms logo ®). The company, founded by Paul Helms in 1931, eventually succumbed to competition from emerging supermarkets and closed in 1969. Still today, an independently operated former Helms Bakery ® truck, perhaps the last, cruises the neighborhoods of Montebello, tooting its whistle and offering bread and pastries.
The old truck was jamming, I think it might have hit 45 mph on one decline near Lake Castaic. Was it the truck or the extra ballast? No one will ever know for sure. It was getting late and the odd couple had just reached the summit of the 5 Interstate on the Grapevine. It was the darkest night they had ever seen. A huge fart rattled the thin van walls. The driver, whom had by now introduced himself as Nick Baldass (Baldy for short), was horrified by the flatulency and asked, “Do you have to pinch a loaf boy?”
“Oh yeah” said Fatty, and I can’t wait!”
Baldy quickly swerved off the nearest off-ramp with brakes and tires screeching and smoking. Hey, there is this old fort, Fort Tejon ®, over there that has a one-holer, but we got to get on the road again if we want to get a room at the Padre. Fatty had to pinch so bad and the fart gas was so thick in the back of the truck that he started to hallucinate. “Hey Mr. Baldy! I think there is an old Indian, with painted feet; a ghost back here with me and he’s eaten all the Ding Dongs and, and, and.... the last box of Quisp ® cereal!”
Read the rest of Chapter Two
Read Chapter One
Buy the Lords: Part One so you can understand the spoof
No longer will the Paperback Writer blog just be the naughty voice of an author on the prowl for happenings on the Streets of Bakersfield. Paperback Writer is going to be a new beast…
OK, what I fed you was a load of crap. What I really want your attention for is to share with you part two of the mystery MoonPie spoof of my novel, Lords: Part One.
Yes, I have been accused of writing the spoof, Lards Part One. No, I don’t know who is writing Lards. I tried my darnedest to weed the wiley spoofer from hidden corners of the blogosphere with kind letters, but I failed. No response. The writer's identity is firmly hidden, tucked away like a dastardly Lord of Bakersfield. I have to idly sit by and wait in line for the next installment of Lards Part One.
Read on as you get to meet a very interesting and decrepit character, Nick Baldass…
LARDS PART 1
CHAPTER 2 (Getting to Bakersfield, known as the MoonPie® Mecca).
“Hey fat boy, want some chow?” came a voice from an ice cream snack truck that had just pulled up. Fatty stood in the burger parking lot, his hands in his left pocket, belly hunched, and with the hungry look on his face that Chubsy told him to always have. “Be the damn Porky Pig ®” Chubsy had told him.
“Who?”
“I dunno. Some dead cartoon pig with a star on the WB ® toons walk of fame.”
“What kind of snacks you got?” Fatty said hoggishly to the driver/vendor.
“I got the sweet, carbo stuff. I got Twinkies-soft and sweet. Whatever. You look like an obese kid, kinda hungry though.”
“Oh I ain’t hungry. I am full! That last 24-pack of Ding-Dongs hit the spot.”
“Maybe you’re hungry for something moon shaped?”
At that point the snack truck driver made his move. “Okay fat boy, no more messin’ around. Get in the back of the truck. The Mayor of Bakersfield is holding a MoonPie ® eating contest at the Bakersfield bell tower tomorrow and I need you to win it for me!”
Fatty looked astounded. “Why didn’t you just say so!” And into the rear of the snack truck: it listed to the left. It was a converted old Helms Bakery ® jobber. The truck sped off like a bat out off hell, nicely packed, to hold in freshness and goodness; food snacks were flying everywhere. At one time, not long ago, a fleet of 300 Helms Bakery ® vans cruised the neighborhoods of the Los Angeles area summoning people with their distinctive whistles to purchase bread and pastries. The center of this operation was the Helms Bakery ® building on Venice Boulevard in Culver City (still located there with original Helms logo ®). The company, founded by Paul Helms in 1931, eventually succumbed to competition from emerging supermarkets and closed in 1969. Still today, an independently operated former Helms Bakery ® truck, perhaps the last, cruises the neighborhoods of Montebello, tooting its whistle and offering bread and pastries.
The old truck was jamming, I think it might have hit 45 mph on one decline near Lake Castaic. Was it the truck or the extra ballast? No one will ever know for sure. It was getting late and the odd couple had just reached the summit of the 5 Interstate on the Grapevine. It was the darkest night they had ever seen. A huge fart rattled the thin van walls. The driver, whom had by now introduced himself as Nick Baldass (Baldy for short), was horrified by the flatulency and asked, “Do you have to pinch a loaf boy?”
“Oh yeah” said Fatty, and I can’t wait!”
Baldy quickly swerved off the nearest off-ramp with brakes and tires screeching and smoking. Hey, there is this old fort, Fort Tejon ®, over there that has a one-holer, but we got to get on the road again if we want to get a room at the Padre. Fatty had to pinch so bad and the fart gas was so thick in the back of the truck that he started to hallucinate. “Hey Mr. Baldy! I think there is an old Indian, with painted feet; a ghost back here with me and he’s eaten all the Ding Dongs and, and, and.... the last box of Quisp ® cereal!”
Read the rest of Chapter Two
Read Chapter One
Buy the Lords: Part One so you can understand the spoof
This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on
Tuesday, July 18, 2006.
You can leave your response.
they were heaven's hearses,....
with rear-end morgues perfectly fitted with magnificent maple-wood drawers, wide and flat, lined with wax paper stiff and straight under the warm round and twisted sugary shapes that mocked our obvious lust for all things hard to see and beyond our reach.
Stolen from the pages of Bakotopia.com!!
Shame on you!!!
Hehehehheehheeeee
By the way, ese, there's a lady hunting you down for an autograph for Lords. She was at the poetry reading...
Who dat?
CSUB profe'. I'll send her to you..
MmM
i want some more....
lol.
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