I’ve had the better part of a day to think about this — including when I was sleeping because, new or old, Big Tex remains fully leaded nightmare fuel — and I think I have finally figured out what Big Tex looks like:
A Prairie Home Companion host Garrison Keillor has just come back from a trip. He has two weeks of Majorca-vacation tan on him, and a few extra pounds — but, hey, it’s radio, right? It’s the middle of the night, and there is a knock at the door. He’s groggy, still jet-lagged from the trip, and the knock startles him. While trying to turn on his bedside lamp, he sends his glasses scuttling to the floor. He needs his glasses to find his glasses, haha — make a note of that, Garrison; mention it in a story — and he’s on his hands and knees when another knock comes. This one is louder, more insistent. OK, fine — he abandons the search and pads down the hall, stretching into his robe as he walks. There is a third knock — jeezy peasy, fella, simmer down — as he gets to the door. He opens it and — no! It can’t be! I saw you die! I was just a child. You can’t possibly hold me responsible!