By Noah Vail, equine author extraordinaire
Gabe might not be my best choice for publicist. Not that he lacks the skills to fire up an audience. Frankly, he fires up more attention than a levelheaded card shark needs. Such was the case when the Medina Gaming Commission stopped in to inquire about his use of cribbage Cliffs Notes in competitive settings. Incidentally, Gabe wins a lot of cribbage tournaments.
The real problem is Gabe would rather play online poker with Nicely Nicely Olson from Chicago than chase down literary events for yours truly. So, I decided it was time to launch a new PR plan.
Our first meeting convened last week. An unkemped crew showed up. For the innocent reader, equine winter wear takes on a unique fragrance after a couple months sans laundering. A good measure of muck and a generous dose of poo poo can produce an aromatic blend yet to be bottled by Channel.
“So, what do you plan to offer for prizes when people hold special events or order your book?” queried Ms. Danika wrinkling her muzzle, “an evening of poker and a bag of peanuts with your stinky friends?” she added with a wee smirk. By that time, the Eau de Gelding scent pretty much filled the room.
“How about a romantic cruise on Lake Minnetonka, or a garden party at the Como Park Conservatory?” I suggested. The entire poker club exchanged eye-rolls. “Or, perhaps a slice of carrot cake at the American Swedish Institute?” I soldiered on. Everyone brighten slightly at the mention of carrot cake.
“Now then, can you suggest any better ideas?” I asked hoping to move the conversation beyond aromas.
“Well, how about a week in the Florida Keys?” shouted Spruce “You could do a little poolside reading at the Caballo Relaxo Spa?”
“Maybe a guest appearance at the State Fair Oink Booth,” suggested Gladden. “Last year’s crowd really took a shine to that colossal boar they had on display.”
Oh boy, I think it’s time to find a proper publicist, I concluded. That’s when the Landlord handed me an invitation, and I abandoned all thoughts of the publicist predicament.
“Noah,” she chirped, “it seems that a lovely member of the fairer sex has invited you to a New Years party.”
“And her name is?” I asked, scrambling to think of a member of the fairer sex that would invite me anywhere.
“Her name is Emma,” said the Landlord with a wink and a smile.
Well, well, what a splendid idea! Of course I couldn’t help wondering what this delightful little filly Emma looked like. “How about requesting a photo of Emma for me to hang in my room until we meet?” I asked the Landlord. She agreed.
The photo arrived this morning.