My daddy and Bob Fowler, our neighbor at next farm over, got it in their noggins to go perch-jerkin. Got their cane fishin poles and traipsed back behind our house to the swampy banks of Grassy Lake. There they seed a feller with a toe-sack on his back. The feller asked them Yawl wanna drank?...and dumped a whole kit n kaboodle of pint mason jars, filled with White Lightnin, on the ground. Now, Daddy and Bob werent Much on drankin hard likker, but they didnt wanna hurt this fellers feelings by declining his offer. So they each unscrewed the cap on one and hesitatingly drunk some down. Felt like, they said, drankin red-hot fahr-coals. And soon after That is when everthang got sorta hazy. When my daddy come to his senses, his Mason jar was empty, and he was layin head-first in the swamp water, blowin bubbles. and his eyes got crossed, somehow, and he couldnt tell which End was Up. Pore Old Bob Fowler moaned and groaned a cuppla times while settin on the ground, and said My legs wont work. I have asked them Nicely to get my body up, but they wont lissen to Me. Meanwhile, Daddy was Stil blowin bubbles...Finally Bob said to my daddy If you dont drown anytime soon, woodja try to wobble your way up to my house and tell my wife to Come Down Here ? My legs wont listen to ME but they dang-might hear Her, if she raises her voice Enough !
Posted on: Sun, 02 Feb 2014 12:16:01 +0000
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