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Here now!!! You younguns been at that sorgum agin? So that's where all my biscuits went. Look at you. You got more on you than you got in you. The flies is stickin to you like flypaper. Jody what in tarnation is that in your pocket? Good Lord child. You don't sop a biscuit in sorgum then put it in your pocket. Best wash up fore you climb up here to hear some more of old Uncle Hoodys adventures. If you don't they'll have to split us up with a froe. Ready? We're gettin to the excitin part.
If you haven't already read the start of this story please do so before you read this part.
Day 8
The sun was just burning through the strange haze the canyon dwellers call smog when I arose stiff and sore from my night behind the dumbster. I shivered in the cold wind that was blowing down the canyon. My fire had gone out and there was nothing left to eat. From somewhere far down the canyon came a strange squeaking noise. Presently Pancho Villain and his pack of killers emerged from the smog pulling a red wagon with rusty wheels piled high with books. Surely my wayward book was in there somewhere.
Suddenly my nose was assailed by a strong odor of spoiled shrimp. I had thought it was just a figure of speech when he offered to get me some "Steenkin books". "Ees no my fault thrift shop shares dumbster with Chinese restaurant", he replied to my complaint.
He led me around the corner and to my amazement I beheld a strange temple. No doubt it was ancient but someone had been keeping this edifice in good repair. Even the soaring golden arches gleamed with the shine of fresh plastic. One of the priests capered in front of it in robes that strangely resembled a clown costume. He had bright red hair and was wearing a huge pair of shoes. On his chest was painted McD, the emblem of the god of fat and cholesterol.
Inside an acolyte stood behind the altar passing out ritual food to the worshipers in exchange for their offerings. He gladly handed me a bigmacdoublefries and then gave me the ritual blessing. "Jalika apllepie widdat"? I nodded and he added a token that seemed to consist of soggy dough wrapped around a gooey substance with a tiny bit of fruit embedded in it. I took that for my breakfast and went outside where I exchanged the bigmacdoublefries for the wagon load of books.
Quickly pawing through the books with one hand while holding my nose with the other I could see that my lost book was not among them. Sadly I turned homeward, towing the wagon behind me. Buzzards circled overhead and a pack of savage yowling cats followed along behind.
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Home sweet home
I was 68 years old when I built this log cabin to live in on my 40 acres in Oklahoma. The only power tool I used was a chain saw to fell the trees. The rest was all done with hand tools. The logs were squared off with the foot adze I am holding in the picture and the logs were then skidded through the woods by a jackass (ME). Some had to be dragged a quarter mile. The only help I had was a friend helping with the two top courses of logs. The wall was too high for me to do it by myself at that point. Everything is fitted together. The only nails are the ones that hold the roofing on. JUST LISTEN TO THAT OL' BOY BRAG. ;-] And look at all the junk he flung out the door. Why I believe that's a real live redneck.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
TEES OF THE WEEK
These are a couple of kids tees I just added to my store and they kind of remind me of the youngun's listening to this tale. If you haven't read the first parts of this story please do so before reading this.
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI - PART 5
Day 7
Chihuahuas and chalupas. The leader of the killer chihuhua pack was a fierce looking fellow fully four inches tall. He wore a red bandana. As I struggled to my feet and started to dust myself off he looked at me sternly and demanded. "OK mon drop de chalupa" I admitted fearfully that I had no chalupa and he seemed to wilt before my eyes.
"Si. Nobody have chalupa for Pancho Villain any more. Once I say drop de chalupa and chalupas fall like rain. Then I eat de chalupa an look at camera an say, 'Te quero Taco Bell'. Beeg mon come from back room an give me bag full of money"
Suddely I realized I was looking at the dregs of a once famous star. "What happened"?
"I don know mon. I have my own dressing room. Even gold plated fire hydrant jus for me. Was good. I have party pad in Malibu right nex to hiway. Good road kill to roll in anytime but you know, smoked peeg ears, squeaky toys, doggie bags from bes French restaurants, fancy girl poodles; pretty soon is all gone. I get high on road kill, can't remember my lines. But was good times eh amigos?" All the dogs in the pack agreed it was good times. " Now I am just Pancho Villain the terror of the canyons." His fierce look came back, "Hokay wat ju got"?
I searched through my pockets and came up with a chocolate chip cookie, covered with pocket lint and half a pack of Juicy Fruit gum. He accepted it glumly.
I explained what I was looking for and he brightened. " BOOKS? I get you lots of steenkin books. What you gonna give me"? We finally settled on a BIGMACDOUBLEFRIES. I had no idea where I could get one or even what it was but I was in no position to argue.
The pack disappeared as though by magic. My entire store of supplies had been stolen and I had no water. Glumly I built a small fire with Happy Meal tumbleweeds and settled behind a dumbster for the night. Perhaps tomorow Pancho Villian and his pack would return with my wayward book. Or perhaps they would attack me savagely and tear my socks to shreds. One never knows with these desperate bandidos.
Chihuahuas and chalupas. The leader of the killer chihuhua pack was a fierce looking fellow fully four inches tall. He wore a red bandana. As I struggled to my feet and started to dust myself off he looked at me sternly and demanded. "OK mon drop de chalupa" I admitted fearfully that I had no chalupa and he seemed to wilt before my eyes.
"Si. Nobody have chalupa for Pancho Villain any more. Once I say drop de chalupa and chalupas fall like rain. Then I eat de chalupa an look at camera an say, 'Te quero Taco Bell'. Beeg mon come from back room an give me bag full of money"
Suddely I realized I was looking at the dregs of a once famous star. "What happened"?
"I don know mon. I have my own dressing room. Even gold plated fire hydrant jus for me. Was good. I have party pad in Malibu right nex to hiway. Good road kill to roll in anytime but you know, smoked peeg ears, squeaky toys, doggie bags from bes French restaurants, fancy girl poodles; pretty soon is all gone. I get high on road kill, can't remember my lines. But was good times eh amigos?" All the dogs in the pack agreed it was good times. " Now I am just Pancho Villain the terror of the canyons." His fierce look came back, "Hokay wat ju got"?
I searched through my pockets and came up with a chocolate chip cookie, covered with pocket lint and half a pack of Juicy Fruit gum. He accepted it glumly.
I explained what I was looking for and he brightened. " BOOKS? I get you lots of steenkin books. What you gonna give me"? We finally settled on a BIGMACDOUBLEFRIES. I had no idea where I could get one or even what it was but I was in no position to argue.
The pack disappeared as though by magic. My entire store of supplies had been stolen and I had no water. Glumly I built a small fire with Happy Meal tumbleweeds and settled behind a dumbster for the night. Perhaps tomorow Pancho Villian and his pack would return with my wayward book. Or perhaps they would attack me savagely and tear my socks to shreds. One never knows with these desperate bandidos.
Starting to add some childrens tees watch for new ones : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Thursday, March 27, 2008
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI - Part 4
Now I hope this next part don't give you young'uns nightmares. It's kind of skeery but this is what happened to your old Uncle Hoody. Quit that gigglin' you know your old uncle wouldn't lie to you.
The Great Book Safari - part 4
Day 6
Into the Canyons. - I strode boldly into the dreaded canyons. One must not show fear here. Striding isn't easy when wearing high heeled cowboy boots. Had planned to ride my trusty dog but coward refused to come out from under bed.
Sheer rock walls bear uncanny resemblance to cinderblock and brick. Once thriving civilization here. Mysteriously left. Cryptic messages sprayed on walls may explain if can be deciphered. Paco 13 in rather garish colors seems to be most frequent. Perhaps the last ruler of vanished tribe. Evidence of habitation still remains. Broken furniture, abandoned washers and dryers. Here and there ancient vehicles. All parts removed leaving only empty shells
Most numerous present inhabitants are square and green. They are known as dumbsters and hug the walls all along canyon. Like pack rats they collect all sorts of things. Once a week at 5 AM a strange beast comes roaring into canyon and turns dumbsters upside down to shake out their entire collection of treasures and steal them. They are ridden by members of the fierce Sanitation Workers Tribe. Rumored they bury treasure in lanfils.(whatever they are) Don't understand why dumbsters don't hide or flee. Beast can be heard roaring for long distance. Perhaps why they are called dumbsters. Tribe who lives on top of canyon walls stick heads out of windows and shout encouragement to the beast in unknown languages. Messages like "holitdown wudja ?" or "Trynasleephere". Hope book wasn't hiding in dumbster.
Oddly shaped tumbleweeds roll down canyon in wind. Have markings almost like printing. Some say Slurpie, others Happy Meal, some carry other strange words.
Was about to question dumbsters about book when I heard a sound that chilled me to the bone. The padding of numerous feet. I turned to flee but had forgotten to remove spurs and they tangled in a Slurpie tumbleweed. Flat on my back I stared fearfully upward at the faces of the most dreaded sight in the canyons. A pack of killer Chihuahuas!!
Starting to add some childrens tees watch for new ones : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
The Great Book Safari - part 4
Day 6
Into the Canyons. - I strode boldly into the dreaded canyons. One must not show fear here. Striding isn't easy when wearing high heeled cowboy boots. Had planned to ride my trusty dog but coward refused to come out from under bed.
Sheer rock walls bear uncanny resemblance to cinderblock and brick. Once thriving civilization here. Mysteriously left. Cryptic messages sprayed on walls may explain if can be deciphered. Paco 13 in rather garish colors seems to be most frequent. Perhaps the last ruler of vanished tribe. Evidence of habitation still remains. Broken furniture, abandoned washers and dryers. Here and there ancient vehicles. All parts removed leaving only empty shells
Most numerous present inhabitants are square and green. They are known as dumbsters and hug the walls all along canyon. Like pack rats they collect all sorts of things. Once a week at 5 AM a strange beast comes roaring into canyon and turns dumbsters upside down to shake out their entire collection of treasures and steal them. They are ridden by members of the fierce Sanitation Workers Tribe. Rumored they bury treasure in lanfils.(whatever they are) Don't understand why dumbsters don't hide or flee. Beast can be heard roaring for long distance. Perhaps why they are called dumbsters. Tribe who lives on top of canyon walls stick heads out of windows and shout encouragement to the beast in unknown languages. Messages like "holitdown wudja ?" or "Trynasleephere". Hope book wasn't hiding in dumbster.
Oddly shaped tumbleweeds roll down canyon in wind. Have markings almost like printing. Some say Slurpie, others Happy Meal, some carry other strange words.
Was about to question dumbsters about book when I heard a sound that chilled me to the bone. The padding of numerous feet. I turned to flee but had forgotten to remove spurs and they tangled in a Slurpie tumbleweed. Flat on my back I stared fearfully upward at the faces of the most dreaded sight in the canyons. A pack of killer Chihuahuas!!
Starting to add some childrens tees watch for new ones : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI Part - 3
You young'uns set up straight and quit slurping your soda or I'll take away your straws. A brave man is risking his life to save a lost book.
The Great Book Safari - Part 3
Day 5
I am nearing the end of my strength. After wriggling free of Plumber's deadly trap I tried to inch forward but some strange power kept drawing me back. I finally realized that my elastic suspenders were caught on a nail. With a mighty wrench I tore loose only to have the snaps come flying back and strike me between the eyes. When I regained consciousness I was looking into the eyes of a small black creature with a white stripe down her back. "You almost fell on me", she shouted,"That really stinks". I started to make a remark but thought better of it. Must not get the natives angry when I am at their mercy.
Just then I became conscious of a strange rhythmic sound that I had been hearing for quite some time. It sounded like "99 - thump. 99 - thump. 99 - thump". It was drawing closer by the minute. I drew the only weapon I had brought with me, my trusty nail clippers, and prepared to defend myself but when it got to me I could see that it was only a centipede with a wooden leg.
As I watched the centipede pass my eyes fell on a calico cat that had been sitting watching me all this time. She was going through a strange ritual. First she would look at me and make a circular motion beside her ear with one paw. Then she would make a goofy face and stick out her tongue. I knew she was trying to tell me something so when she trotted off I followed.
LIGHT!! There was a light up ahead. The roof was getting lower and I was wiggling along on my stomach but finally I crawled forth into the fresh air. How wonderfull to feel the sun on my face and the wind blowing into the hole I had torn in the seat of my britches.
But I had failed in my quest. Once more the wily book had eluded me. There was only one place left to look and I shuddered when I thought of it. The canyons!!!!
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The Great Book Safari - Part 3
Day 5
I am nearing the end of my strength. After wriggling free of Plumber's deadly trap I tried to inch forward but some strange power kept drawing me back. I finally realized that my elastic suspenders were caught on a nail. With a mighty wrench I tore loose only to have the snaps come flying back and strike me between the eyes. When I regained consciousness I was looking into the eyes of a small black creature with a white stripe down her back. "You almost fell on me", she shouted,"That really stinks". I started to make a remark but thought better of it. Must not get the natives angry when I am at their mercy.
Just then I became conscious of a strange rhythmic sound that I had been hearing for quite some time. It sounded like "99 - thump. 99 - thump. 99 - thump". It was drawing closer by the minute. I drew the only weapon I had brought with me, my trusty nail clippers, and prepared to defend myself but when it got to me I could see that it was only a centipede with a wooden leg.
As I watched the centipede pass my eyes fell on a calico cat that had been sitting watching me all this time. She was going through a strange ritual. First she would look at me and make a circular motion beside her ear with one paw. Then she would make a goofy face and stick out her tongue. I knew she was trying to tell me something so when she trotted off I followed.
LIGHT!! There was a light up ahead. The roof was getting lower and I was wiggling along on my stomach but finally I crawled forth into the fresh air. How wonderfull to feel the sun on my face and the wind blowing into the hole I had torn in the seat of my britches.
But I had failed in my quest. Once more the wily book had eluded me. There was only one place left to look and I shuddered when I thought of it. The canyons!!!!
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Monday, March 24, 2008
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI - Part 2
My mind slowly continues to deteriorate and so I add this next part of my exciting Safari . This is me in my explorer outfit: 
If you haven't read part one please do so before reading this.
The Great Book Safari - Part 2
DAY 4
Into the depths of the earth. I suspect the book has gone underground. Gathered all of my spelunking gear together; miners lamp, ropes and pitons for climbing sheer rock walls. climbing shoes, oxygen in case I encounter bad air, numerous smaller items. It made quite a pile but I found I couldn't get it all into the foundation access hole. Most of it had to be abandoned right at the start.
On entering this dark forbidding space I immediately encountered several natives with rattles tied to their tails. Probably something to do with their religion. They shook their rattles at me in what I took as a friendly greeting ritual. When asked if they had seen the wayward book they opened their mouths and said SSSSSS which I took for a yes. Very encouraging. Pressing onward I met a termite who remarked that he had found the book rather dry. Two silverfish agreed saying they hadn't been able to get into it. An ant had a different opinion saying that the book was quite tastefull, especially the glue on the binding.
I then entered a strange region where several round long objects hung from overhead and decended into the earth. I was informed by the natives that they had been left by an explorer who had been ahead of me. A mysterious man they knew only as Plumber.
Exhausted. Must rest now. Will continue onward tomorrow if I have the strength.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
If you haven't read part one please do so before reading this.
The Great Book Safari - Part 2
DAY 4
Into the depths of the earth. I suspect the book has gone underground. Gathered all of my spelunking gear together; miners lamp, ropes and pitons for climbing sheer rock walls. climbing shoes, oxygen in case I encounter bad air, numerous smaller items. It made quite a pile but I found I couldn't get it all into the foundation access hole. Most of it had to be abandoned right at the start.
On entering this dark forbidding space I immediately encountered several natives with rattles tied to their tails. Probably something to do with their religion. They shook their rattles at me in what I took as a friendly greeting ritual. When asked if they had seen the wayward book they opened their mouths and said SSSSSS which I took for a yes. Very encouraging. Pressing onward I met a termite who remarked that he had found the book rather dry. Two silverfish agreed saying they hadn't been able to get into it. An ant had a different opinion saying that the book was quite tastefull, especially the glue on the binding.
I then entered a strange region where several round long objects hung from overhead and decended into the earth. I was informed by the natives that they had been left by an explorer who had been ahead of me. A mysterious man they knew only as Plumber.
Exhausted. Must rest now. Will continue onward tomorrow if I have the strength.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Sunday, March 23, 2008
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI by Billy Whiskers
And now (cue the Wild Native music) here is a strange and twisted tale from a strange and twisted mind. Read no farther if you value your sanity. All right, you asked for it.
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI by Billy Whiskers Part 1
Having spent the better part of a day hunting my shelves and boxes for a book requested by a fellow member of the Paperback Swap (PBS) Club and having recently read some excerpts from Sir Richard Burton's notes on his explorations in search of the source of the Nile River, I decided to keep a journal of my adventures in search of my lost book. I take full resposibility for the travesty that follows.
Day 2
Still hunting the legendary lost book. Crawled under all beds and stuck my head under couches. Very close call when I came face to face with a fierce mouse and my head got stuck. Must remember brush next time. Very difficult to remove dust bunnies from beard. Must go on. Civilization as we know it hangs in the balance. At least as we know it on PBS. Planning a bold foray into darkest attic crawl space. (Hire native guide? )
Day 3
Attic crawl space. Hired native guide. Small hairy creature who offered to work for a DAY-O for an autographed picture of Harry Belafonte and a beautiful-bunch-a- ripe- banana. Strange fellow. Eight legs and numerous eyes.
Several widows with red hour glasses tatooed on stomachs invited me into their parlor. Tempted but must not let myself be distracted from the search.
Saw several tracks. Book has been here but gone now. Native bearers have deserted. The sound of drums is driving me crazy. Last peanut butter sandwich eaten hours ago. Out of water. Flashlight batteries running low. Will put this message in safe place in case I don't get out alive. Tell my dog I love her.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
THE GREAT BOOK SAFARI by Billy Whiskers Part 1
Having spent the better part of a day hunting my shelves and boxes for a book requested by a fellow member of the Paperback Swap (PBS) Club and having recently read some excerpts from Sir Richard Burton's notes on his explorations in search of the source of the Nile River, I decided to keep a journal of my adventures in search of my lost book. I take full resposibility for the travesty that follows.
Day 2
Still hunting the legendary lost book. Crawled under all beds and stuck my head under couches. Very close call when I came face to face with a fierce mouse and my head got stuck. Must remember brush next time. Very difficult to remove dust bunnies from beard. Must go on. Civilization as we know it hangs in the balance. At least as we know it on PBS. Planning a bold foray into darkest attic crawl space. (Hire native guide? )
Day 3
Attic crawl space. Hired native guide. Small hairy creature who offered to work for a DAY-O for an autographed picture of Harry Belafonte and a beautiful-bunch-a- ripe- banana. Strange fellow. Eight legs and numerous eyes.
Several widows with red hour glasses tatooed on stomachs invited me into their parlor. Tempted but must not let myself be distracted from the search.
Saw several tracks. Book has been here but gone now. Native bearers have deserted. The sound of drums is driving me crazy. Last peanut butter sandwich eaten hours ago. Out of water. Flashlight batteries running low. Will put this message in safe place in case I don't get out alive. Tell my dog I love her.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Saturday, March 22, 2008
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES Conclusion
If you like cats and you like stories have I got a blog for you. DIARY OF A GINGER CAT Caution. It's adicting. You'll also find it in my cool links.
Now on to the exciting conclusion of our latest Eb n' Lafe tale. If you haven't read the first two parts please do so before you read this.
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES by Billy Whiskers - Conclusion
Lafe shone his lantern onto the edge of the branch. There in the mud was the track he knew so well; a right hind foot with two toes missing. Old Trap-toes for sure.
That had been hours before and the old coon was still running Revalation a good race. He managed to get him to false tree twice and lost the old hound several times with his tricks but Revalation was still on him. Lafe had been back and forth across the branch so many times his brogans were soaked and once his foot had slipped on a rock and he sat down hard in a pool. Bit his tongue a good one too when he hit bottom. He leaned against a tree as he tried to catch his breath. He was scratched head to toe from greenbriars and his shirt was tore. Becky was gonna let him know about that. Lafe was having the time of his life. You just couldn't beat ol Trap-toes for a good run.
They had gotten so far out this time Lafe could barely hear them but now the hounds voice was slowly getting louder as Trap-toes circled back to his home territory. Lafe knew the old coon had to be getting tired by now. Pretty soon he'd have to tree. There it was!!
"Treed by dang!!" Lafe shouted out loud. By now he was all turned around. He knew the directions from the moon but danged if he knew where he was. He couldn't spot any familiar trees or rocks.
He stumbled toward the sound of the excited hound barking treed for all the world to hear, managing to get himself into a bramble patch this time.
"Whar in Tarnation am I?", Lafe muttered. At least he was getting closer. The baying was durn loud now. He took one more step and was hit in the face with something that pricked and stung at the same time. Cautiously he reached out and his hand closed on something that felt like a pin cushion full of needles.
"Careless weed by dang !". Now he knew where he was. This had to be the edge of Eb's corn field. Nobody else let the careless weed get this tall. He chuckled as he thought of Eb and Becky trying to sleep through all this ruction.
He stepped into an open patch and there they were. Revalation was bouncing up and down against a big dead tree and baying loud enough to wake the dead.
Lafe lit the carbide miners lamp he wore on his forehead and shined the light up and down the snag. There was a hollow almost at the top and he caught the shine of a pair of eyes just as the coon ducked out of sight. Lafe knew this old coon well so he just kept the light on the opening. Sure enough a bandit face slowly raised back up.
"Allus gotta take a secont look don't ye?" said Lafe as he raised his rifle and took aim right between the eyes. He held his bead for several seconds then slowly lowered the rifle to his side.
"Now ye listen yere." shouted Lafe, "By rights I oughta kick thet rotten mess over an shoot ye as ye crawl out. I know ye been in Edna's hen house an hits gotta stop. Now we been friends fer a lotta years an we allus had lots of fun together but unless you start showin some neighborly tendencies I'm agonna have to do somethin' we'll both regret".
Lafe called Revalation off and they started for home.
"CREEEEAK", the outhouse door slowly opened and Eb looked out cautiously. Once he was sure that Lafe wasn't laying for him he hitched up his britches and went into the cabin. Becky watched from the bed as he sat down in the old rocker. He rocked for a bit, then reached down and picked up the jug that he always kept next to it. He pulled the corn cob stopper and raised in on the edge of his arm. Becky heard it gurgle as he took a healthy swallow. He took one more, replaced the stopper and turned to her.
"B'lieve I'll take some shine down to Rufus at the Gen'l Store an trade me fer a nice ham. We'd ought to invite Lafe 'n Edna over fer dinner this Sund'y. Time ye started showin a few Neighborly Tendencies".
THE END
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Now on to the exciting conclusion of our latest Eb n' Lafe tale. If you haven't read the first two parts please do so before you read this.
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES by Billy Whiskers - Conclusion
Lafe shone his lantern onto the edge of the branch. There in the mud was the track he knew so well; a right hind foot with two toes missing. Old Trap-toes for sure.
That had been hours before and the old coon was still running Revalation a good race. He managed to get him to false tree twice and lost the old hound several times with his tricks but Revalation was still on him. Lafe had been back and forth across the branch so many times his brogans were soaked and once his foot had slipped on a rock and he sat down hard in a pool. Bit his tongue a good one too when he hit bottom. He leaned against a tree as he tried to catch his breath. He was scratched head to toe from greenbriars and his shirt was tore. Becky was gonna let him know about that. Lafe was having the time of his life. You just couldn't beat ol Trap-toes for a good run.
They had gotten so far out this time Lafe could barely hear them but now the hounds voice was slowly getting louder as Trap-toes circled back to his home territory. Lafe knew the old coon had to be getting tired by now. Pretty soon he'd have to tree. There it was!!
"Treed by dang!!" Lafe shouted out loud. By now he was all turned around. He knew the directions from the moon but danged if he knew where he was. He couldn't spot any familiar trees or rocks.
He stumbled toward the sound of the excited hound barking treed for all the world to hear, managing to get himself into a bramble patch this time.
"Whar in Tarnation am I?", Lafe muttered. At least he was getting closer. The baying was durn loud now. He took one more step and was hit in the face with something that pricked and stung at the same time. Cautiously he reached out and his hand closed on something that felt like a pin cushion full of needles.
"Careless weed by dang !". Now he knew where he was. This had to be the edge of Eb's corn field. Nobody else let the careless weed get this tall. He chuckled as he thought of Eb and Becky trying to sleep through all this ruction.
He stepped into an open patch and there they were. Revalation was bouncing up and down against a big dead tree and baying loud enough to wake the dead.
Lafe lit the carbide miners lamp he wore on his forehead and shined the light up and down the snag. There was a hollow almost at the top and he caught the shine of a pair of eyes just as the coon ducked out of sight. Lafe knew this old coon well so he just kept the light on the opening. Sure enough a bandit face slowly raised back up.
"Allus gotta take a secont look don't ye?" said Lafe as he raised his rifle and took aim right between the eyes. He held his bead for several seconds then slowly lowered the rifle to his side.
"Now ye listen yere." shouted Lafe, "By rights I oughta kick thet rotten mess over an shoot ye as ye crawl out. I know ye been in Edna's hen house an hits gotta stop. Now we been friends fer a lotta years an we allus had lots of fun together but unless you start showin some neighborly tendencies I'm agonna have to do somethin' we'll both regret".
Lafe called Revalation off and they started for home.
"CREEEEAK", the outhouse door slowly opened and Eb looked out cautiously. Once he was sure that Lafe wasn't laying for him he hitched up his britches and went into the cabin. Becky watched from the bed as he sat down in the old rocker. He rocked for a bit, then reached down and picked up the jug that he always kept next to it. He pulled the corn cob stopper and raised in on the edge of his arm. Becky heard it gurgle as he took a healthy swallow. He took one more, replaced the stopper and turned to her.
"B'lieve I'll take some shine down to Rufus at the Gen'l Store an trade me fer a nice ham. We'd ought to invite Lafe 'n Edna over fer dinner this Sund'y. Time ye started showin a few Neighborly Tendencies".
THE END
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Friday, March 21, 2008
Neighborly Tendencies - Part 2
I ran across an interesting blog today. She's just starting it but what a great start it is for those who love minerals and gems. WIRE AND CRYSTALS is the name and if you forget look in my Cool Links.
Now younguns, time to get back to our story. Lafe wasn't having an easy time of it either. He - here now, quit that squirmin and settle down. Here's what happened.
If you haven't read the first part of this story scroll down and read it before this one.
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES - PART 2
"Lafe!!! Ye agonna lay abed all day? Sun's nigh over the ridge".
"Aw Edna. You know me n Revalation didn't git home till nigh sunup. We brung you a nice fat possum fer dinner."
" An whilst you an thet ol' houn dog was roustin around the woods, somethin got inta the hen house agin. Two a my best layin hens is gone".
"We'll circle round thar tonight. See kin we pick up a trail. Some kinda varmint likely".
"An we both know what kinda varmint it is too. I wanna see him shot an his hide nailed onto the shed fore the night's out"
Eb poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Whuts fer breakfast"?
"Ye know the only way we gits things from the store is tradin my eggs. No eggs, no coffee, ner flour fer bisquits ner gravy ner bacon to go with them there eggs yere gonna be gobblin up an' if all them hens disappears won't be no more nuthin." She set each item on the table as she named it, slamming them down so hard Lafe expected to see the old plates break.
"Now Edna ye know ol' Trap-toes don't take a hen less he's really hongry. We'll roust him good tonight an he'll leave us be fer quite a spell"
"Ye're bad as yer pappy with them crazy names. Trap-toes HUMPH an whilst we're at it whut kinda name is Revalation fer a hound dog"?
"Pap almost caught thet ol coon in a trap one time but he got out of it an left two toes behind. Slowed him down jest a mite so's he has to use all his tricks to git away. Mighty handy critter to train a hound on. An I call thet ol dog Revalation cause any time a critter tries to trick him he sets down till he has a revalation an away he goes on the trail agin".
"Ye got any egg credit down to the Gen'l store? I need me some more 22 shells. I mus be agittin' old. It took me two shots to knock thet ol' possum outa the tree, even with the moon behint him"
Stay tuned as Lafe an Revalation has a run with ol' trap toes and somebody else gets a revalation too.
Check out these cool tee shirts. One for any occasion: http://sourmashhog.blogspot.com/
Now younguns, time to get back to our story. Lafe wasn't having an easy time of it either. He - here now, quit that squirmin and settle down. Here's what happened.
If you haven't read the first part of this story scroll down and read it before this one.
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES - PART 2
"Lafe!!! Ye agonna lay abed all day? Sun's nigh over the ridge".
"Aw Edna. You know me n Revalation didn't git home till nigh sunup. We brung you a nice fat possum fer dinner."
" An whilst you an thet ol' houn dog was roustin around the woods, somethin got inta the hen house agin. Two a my best layin hens is gone".
"We'll circle round thar tonight. See kin we pick up a trail. Some kinda varmint likely".
"An we both know what kinda varmint it is too. I wanna see him shot an his hide nailed onto the shed fore the night's out"
Eb poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Whuts fer breakfast"?
"Ye know the only way we gits things from the store is tradin my eggs. No eggs, no coffee, ner flour fer bisquits ner gravy ner bacon to go with them there eggs yere gonna be gobblin up an' if all them hens disappears won't be no more nuthin." She set each item on the table as she named it, slamming them down so hard Lafe expected to see the old plates break.
"Now Edna ye know ol' Trap-toes don't take a hen less he's really hongry. We'll roust him good tonight an he'll leave us be fer quite a spell"
"Ye're bad as yer pappy with them crazy names. Trap-toes HUMPH an whilst we're at it whut kinda name is Revalation fer a hound dog"?
"Pap almost caught thet ol coon in a trap one time but he got out of it an left two toes behind. Slowed him down jest a mite so's he has to use all his tricks to git away. Mighty handy critter to train a hound on. An I call thet ol dog Revalation cause any time a critter tries to trick him he sets down till he has a revalation an away he goes on the trail agin".
"Ye got any egg credit down to the Gen'l store? I need me some more 22 shells. I mus be agittin' old. It took me two shots to knock thet ol' possum outa the tree, even with the moon behint him"
Stay tuned as Lafe an Revalation has a run with ol' trap toes and somebody else gets a revalation too.
Check out these cool tee shirts. One for any occasion: http://sourmashhog.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Nighborly Tendencies - Part 1
You kids quit that hoorawin around and climb up here next to your old Uncle Hoody. Did I ever tell you about the time Eb n' Lafe - well never mind, just listen to the story.
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES by Billy Whiskers
"Eb Bodeen!! Git out from under thet comforter. Ye promised ye'd git to that corn field today. Careless weed agittin so tall you can't see what's left of the corn".
"Aw Becky", groaned Eb,"I'm afeelin a mite peckish today. Belly all riled an head about to bust".
"Wal iffen ye wants the how comes I kin tell ye. I heered ye rattlin round that root cellar last night. I swear come a tornado we won't have room to cram our own selfs in there for all thet home brew ye got stacked up"
Becky turned back to the stove and rattled the grates furiously, then began stirring the gravy in the pan like she was whipping cream.
Eb rolled out of bed on his hands and knees and crawled over to the wash stand. Hauling himself to his feet he began pouring water over his head with the dipper.
Without even looking, Becky swung a backhand with the gravy ladle, leaving a streak of gravy on the baggy seat of Eb's long Johns. "I didn't fetch thet bucket a water all the way from the spring jest sos you could clear the likker fumes", She shouted.
Eb tried to get the conversation back to more comfortable ground. "Whuts fer breakfast"?
"Biskets an gravy with grits", she sniffed , "Not much meat in a lazy man's cabin".
"Thet so? Whut ye call this yere"? He stumbled over to the tow sack in the corner and prodded it with his foot. It commenced squawking and flapping all around the cabin.
Becky sniffed again, louder this time. Becky could crowd more into a sniff than the preacher could get into a sermon. "Tell me agin. Mebbe I kin believe it this time. Jest whar you say you got them two fat hens"?
Eb suddenly got very interested in a fly on the wall. He stared at it like he'd never seen such a sight. Over his shoulder he said, "Tole ye. I found 'em in the woods last night".
"Two fat ol'hens jest awanderin around in the woods in the middle of the night? An no coon er bobcat er owl had the good sense to gobble 'em up"?
Eb turned around and drew himself up to his full height,"Now you lissen yere. I gotta go check the still this mornin. Time I git back I spect I'll find them two hens plucked, cleant an ready fer the pot. Ye hear me woman"? His speech was spoiled when suddenly a stricken look came over his face. "Could be thet last batch a brew were a mite green". He made a dash for the back door.
Becky waved the gravy ladle over her head like Moses urging on the Israelites. "Vengeance is mine. I shall repay, saith the lord", she shouted as Eb dashed for the outhouse.
TO BE CONTINUED
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
NEIGHBORLY TENDENCIES by Billy Whiskers
"Eb Bodeen!! Git out from under thet comforter. Ye promised ye'd git to that corn field today. Careless weed agittin so tall you can't see what's left of the corn".
"Aw Becky", groaned Eb,"I'm afeelin a mite peckish today. Belly all riled an head about to bust".
"Wal iffen ye wants the how comes I kin tell ye. I heered ye rattlin round that root cellar last night. I swear come a tornado we won't have room to cram our own selfs in there for all thet home brew ye got stacked up"
Becky turned back to the stove and rattled the grates furiously, then began stirring the gravy in the pan like she was whipping cream.
Eb rolled out of bed on his hands and knees and crawled over to the wash stand. Hauling himself to his feet he began pouring water over his head with the dipper.
Without even looking, Becky swung a backhand with the gravy ladle, leaving a streak of gravy on the baggy seat of Eb's long Johns. "I didn't fetch thet bucket a water all the way from the spring jest sos you could clear the likker fumes", She shouted.
Eb tried to get the conversation back to more comfortable ground. "Whuts fer breakfast"?
"Biskets an gravy with grits", she sniffed , "Not much meat in a lazy man's cabin".
"Thet so? Whut ye call this yere"? He stumbled over to the tow sack in the corner and prodded it with his foot. It commenced squawking and flapping all around the cabin.
Becky sniffed again, louder this time. Becky could crowd more into a sniff than the preacher could get into a sermon. "Tell me agin. Mebbe I kin believe it this time. Jest whar you say you got them two fat hens"?
Eb suddenly got very interested in a fly on the wall. He stared at it like he'd never seen such a sight. Over his shoulder he said, "Tole ye. I found 'em in the woods last night".
"Two fat ol'hens jest awanderin around in the woods in the middle of the night? An no coon er bobcat er owl had the good sense to gobble 'em up"?
Eb turned around and drew himself up to his full height,"Now you lissen yere. I gotta go check the still this mornin. Time I git back I spect I'll find them two hens plucked, cleant an ready fer the pot. Ye hear me woman"? His speech was spoiled when suddenly a stricken look came over his face. "Could be thet last batch a brew were a mite green". He made a dash for the back door.
Becky waved the gravy ladle over her head like Moses urging on the Israelites. "Vengeance is mine. I shall repay, saith the lord", she shouted as Eb dashed for the outhouse.
TO BE CONTINUED
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Monday, March 17, 2008
JUST A FEW THOUGHTS ABOUT LIFE AND LIVING
Some may wonder where I got this sense of the ridiculous. The truth of the matter is that we are all ridiculous and so is the situation we are in. We don't know who or what we are. We aren't sure where we came from. We really have no idea why we're here; or for that matter where here is in the absolute sense. We don't know if there is something after this or if this is all there is. How much more ridiculous can you get?
Right away many will say that they have all the answers in a book but that's a belief. Different people get their beliefs from different books and they all consider them the ultimate truth. Some may even be very sure about those beliefs but the truth is we don't really KNOW. We all have to have some basic beliefs to live our lives by (I certainly do) but a belief is not knowing for sure.
One thing I do know is that laughing beats crying all hollow, so I try to squeeze as many laughs as I can out of my short span of years. I am very certain that whatever power put us here, we are not meant to be miserable, otherwise why is there so much beauty all around us? The Navajos call a balanced, contented life,"Walking in beauty". I think they may be onto something.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Right away many will say that they have all the answers in a book but that's a belief. Different people get their beliefs from different books and they all consider them the ultimate truth. Some may even be very sure about those beliefs but the truth is we don't really KNOW. We all have to have some basic beliefs to live our lives by (I certainly do) but a belief is not knowing for sure.
One thing I do know is that laughing beats crying all hollow, so I try to squeeze as many laughs as I can out of my short span of years. I am very certain that whatever power put us here, we are not meant to be miserable, otherwise why is there so much beauty all around us? The Navajos call a balanced, contented life,"Walking in beauty". I think they may be onto something.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Friday, March 14, 2008
Signed on Blogged
I just signed up on Blogged, a great site for locating new blogs you might be interested in. Check it out.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
STRANGE FACTS ABOUT THEISLAND OF MORANGI PORA PUNDA - Conclusion
If you haven't already read the first two parts of this story please scroll down and read them before this one or it will make absolutely no sense (Some say it makes no sense anyway)
This just in from Rooters News Service:
"The Island of Morangi Pora Punda was completely demolished today when an unknown number of high powered catfishing boats repeatedly circled the island throwing beer cans and shouting their mysterious slogan, "YEEE-HAW", causing a tsunami that washed the island completely away. The surviving natives have been recued by a passing garbage scow and are on their way to Los Angeles where a generous United States has agreed to take them in as homeless refugees. The captain of the garbage scow reports that he is able to sail straight to Los Angeles as the natives ate his entire cargo.
The mysterious boats were reported to have been flying flags reading, "Redneck Yacht Club", an aparently hitherto unknown terrorist group. The CIA is investigating the incident and the President of the United States has declared that he will take immediate action once the country sheltering this group has been identified. They seem to have ties to the Mississippi, Arkansas, Oklahoma region of the United states. They may also have underground cells in Texas.
THE END
JUST ADDED SOME ROAD RACING TEE SHIRTS: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
If you haven't already read the first two parts of this story please scroll down and read them before this one or it will make absolutely no sense (Some say it makes no sense anyway)
This just in from Rooters News Service:
"The Island of Morangi Pora Punda was completely demolished today when an unknown number of high powered catfishing boats repeatedly circled the island throwing beer cans and shouting their mysterious slogan, "YEEE-HAW", causing a tsunami that washed the island completely away. The surviving natives have been recued by a passing garbage scow and are on their way to Los Angeles where a generous United States has agreed to take them in as homeless refugees. The captain of the garbage scow reports that he is able to sail straight to Los Angeles as the natives ate his entire cargo.
The mysterious boats were reported to have been flying flags reading, "Redneck Yacht Club", an aparently hitherto unknown terrorist group. The CIA is investigating the incident and the President of the United States has declared that he will take immediate action once the country sheltering this group has been identified. They seem to have ties to the Mississippi, Arkansas, Oklahoma region of the United states. They may also have underground cells in Texas.
THE END
JUST ADDED SOME ROAD RACING TEE SHIRTS: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
STRANGE FACTS ABOUT THE ISLAND OF MORANGI PORA PUNDA - Part 2
Yesterday I told you about Paperback Swap (They also swap hard covers) and I hope some of you joined up but if reading isn't your thing we still have you covered with the sister site Swap A DVD where you can do the same thing with DVD's. Trade the ones you have had around till you don't watch them any more for others you may not have seen before or want to see again. All it costs is postage and on DVD's that's pretty darn cheap.
Return with me now to our beautifull unspoiled Paradise (It only smells spoiled. It really isn't)
The native religion centers around a sacred object they call, "The hard thing that fell from Heaven". Those few outsiders who have been privileged to see it (it can be seen for the price of one pack of hot dogs) report that it looks very much like a fist sized rock. This is somewhat remarkable in that there are no other rocks on the island. Most of the time it is kept in a receptacle that looks suspiciously like a Spam can and is decorated with shells and coral. The natives say that it fell from heaven one day during a time of trouble. The noted anthropologist Isadore Crane Urquhart (ICU to his friends) working with his son, Isadore Crane Urquhart the second (ICU2), has investigated this legend and it is his opinion that it was thrown at them by the peg legged captain of a whaling vessel named the Mopy Dork when he sailed too close to the island in pursuit of a white whale and the natives swarmed aboard and began eating the leather parts of the ship's rigging. Entered in the ship's log is the notation, "Fortunately the natives failed in an attempt to catch the ship's cat".
Getting to this unspoiled tropical paradise can be a difficult undertaking involving seeking out an inexperienced sea captain. No ship that has visited the island has ever gone there a second time.
When asked what time it is, the natives invariably answer, "Five". This is as high as any of them can count. Normally this is sufficient since there has never been more than than five of any one thing on the island at one time. A teacher sent by the United Nations has been attempting to teach them to use both hands when counting but the natives refuse to learn. "It was good enough for daddy and it's good enough for me", is the usual response. Sue can only count to three due to an unfortunate accident suffered during a shark attack. His wife bit off two of his fingers when trying to take a bite out of the shark he was attacking. She pronounced them delicious and Sue has taken to sleeping in boxing gloves in case his wife wakes up hungry during the night.
On the highest point of the island there is one palm tree. This comprises the Morangi Pora Punda national forest and it is taboo to eat the tree. A tourist is required to remove his hat and shoes before taking a picture of the tree. Strangely they can never find them again afterward. When asked about this strange phenomenon a native belched loudly and blamed evil spirits There is a legend that at one time in the dim past the tree produced a coconut. This precipitated a terrible war over who owned it. There were many casualties limited mostly to knots on the head caused by throwing the sacred rock at one another. Finally a peace keeping force from the nearby (250 miles away) island of Hoodat Saydat was sent in. They tied up all of the combatants and poured cold water on them till they came to their senses. The coconut was then broken open and evenly divided. There was an attempt to keep the shell of the coconut as a relic but someone had already eaten it.
This news just in. The island of Morangi Pora Punda has sunk beneath the sea. Stay tuned for exciting developments.
JUST ADDED SOME ROAD RACING TEE SHIRTS: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Yesterday I told you about Paperback Swap (They also swap hard covers) and I hope some of you joined up but if reading isn't your thing we still have you covered with the sister site Swap A DVD where you can do the same thing with DVD's. Trade the ones you have had around till you don't watch them any more for others you may not have seen before or want to see again. All it costs is postage and on DVD's that's pretty darn cheap.
Return with me now to our beautifull unspoiled Paradise (It only smells spoiled. It really isn't)
The native religion centers around a sacred object they call, "The hard thing that fell from Heaven". Those few outsiders who have been privileged to see it (it can be seen for the price of one pack of hot dogs) report that it looks very much like a fist sized rock. This is somewhat remarkable in that there are no other rocks on the island. Most of the time it is kept in a receptacle that looks suspiciously like a Spam can and is decorated with shells and coral. The natives say that it fell from heaven one day during a time of trouble. The noted anthropologist Isadore Crane Urquhart (ICU to his friends) working with his son, Isadore Crane Urquhart the second (ICU2), has investigated this legend and it is his opinion that it was thrown at them by the peg legged captain of a whaling vessel named the Mopy Dork when he sailed too close to the island in pursuit of a white whale and the natives swarmed aboard and began eating the leather parts of the ship's rigging. Entered in the ship's log is the notation, "Fortunately the natives failed in an attempt to catch the ship's cat".
Getting to this unspoiled tropical paradise can be a difficult undertaking involving seeking out an inexperienced sea captain. No ship that has visited the island has ever gone there a second time.
When asked what time it is, the natives invariably answer, "Five". This is as high as any of them can count. Normally this is sufficient since there has never been more than than five of any one thing on the island at one time. A teacher sent by the United Nations has been attempting to teach them to use both hands when counting but the natives refuse to learn. "It was good enough for daddy and it's good enough for me", is the usual response. Sue can only count to three due to an unfortunate accident suffered during a shark attack. His wife bit off two of his fingers when trying to take a bite out of the shark he was attacking. She pronounced them delicious and Sue has taken to sleeping in boxing gloves in case his wife wakes up hungry during the night.
On the highest point of the island there is one palm tree. This comprises the Morangi Pora Punda national forest and it is taboo to eat the tree. A tourist is required to remove his hat and shoes before taking a picture of the tree. Strangely they can never find them again afterward. When asked about this strange phenomenon a native belched loudly and blamed evil spirits There is a legend that at one time in the dim past the tree produced a coconut. This precipitated a terrible war over who owned it. There were many casualties limited mostly to knots on the head caused by throwing the sacred rock at one another. Finally a peace keeping force from the nearby (250 miles away) island of Hoodat Saydat was sent in. They tied up all of the combatants and poured cold water on them till they came to their senses. The coconut was then broken open and evenly divided. There was an attempt to keep the shell of the coconut as a relic but someone had already eaten it.
This news just in. The island of Morangi Pora Punda has sunk beneath the sea. Stay tuned for exciting developments.
JUST ADDED SOME ROAD RACING TEE SHIRTS: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
STRANGE FACTS ABOUT THE ISLAND OF MAORANGI PORA PUNDA Part 1
Like the foregoing stories this one was first written for the Paperback Swap board. If you aren't familiar with it, it's a great site where you can swap your already read books for new ones at only the cost of postage. Tell the board that Herbert M. sent you. I have to use a lot of different aliases to keep the sheriff at bay.
Well boys and girls time for your old uncle Hoody to spin another yarn. WARNING. IF YOU DON'T LIKE SILLY DON'T READ THIS. But then if you don't like silly what the heck are you doing here?
I got to thinking about travel books and National Geographic and ended up with this tale.
STRANGE FACTS ABOUT THE ISLAND OF MORANGI PORA PUNDA by Billy Whiskers
Morangi Pora Punda is the smallest inhabited island in the world. It has a population of 113. The population is evenly divided There are 56.5 men and 56.5 women. They have never pinned down who the odd one is. All the men are named Joe except one. His name is Sue. That might be a clue. All of the women are named Fancy. None of them are. The native dress consists of skirts made of Kelp. They wear them till they get dry and crackly and then go down to the beach to shop for new clothing. Their currency is hermit crabs and the richest man on the island is the one who owns the kelp concesion. He keeps his hermit crabs in pens which wash out at high tide so he has to declare bancruptcy twice a day.
The highest point on the island is 3.6 feet above sea level. During the high tides there are only 22 square feet of dry land above water. The women are hoisted onto the mens shoulders and everyone stands around and waits till the water goes down. This is an important part of their native courtship ritual. A woman must be sure a man can support her. Since there isn't room enough for everyone, some of them have to take turns treading water. This is done by drawing straws. There was a great deal of confusion five years ago when someone got hungry and ate the straws. Fortunately a broom washed up on the beach in the nick of time. The Guiness book of records reports that the world record for treading water is held by one of the islanders named Joe. He had eaten most of a case of garlic that washed up on the island and no one would allow him to stand next to them.
The natives do not trust anyone on the island to be head man and so Presidents are elected who are not native to the island. Past distinguished presidents include Mahatma Ghandi, Jane Goodall, Barbara Bush, Johnny Cash, Madonna and Tarzan. None of them ever heard of the Island and no one got around to telling them they had been elected.
Morangi Pora Punda's economy is supported by fleecing tourists and visiting anthropologists. Once a year a ship pulls in and picks up the fleeces trading them for canned Spam, soda crackers and Sam's Club diet coke. This, plus whatever washes up on the beach comprise the native diet. Their food is flavored by rolling it in the sand. Several years ago a cargo box full of shoes washed up on the beach. There was much rejoicing and it was almost a year before all the shoes were eaten. The cargo box was declared the Presidential Palace in case one of their Presidents ever finds out where they are and comes to visit.
Most of the islanders have pet octopi which they wear on their heads to protect them from the sun. This accounts for the circular red marks on their foreheads which many anthropologists have mistaken for tribal tattoos.
The Island of Morangi Pora Punda was once notorious for frequent shark attacks. Numbers have fallen in recent years since most of the sharks got tired of being attacked and left.
The Island has another claim to fame. Besides being the world's smallest inhabited island it also has the world's smallest volcano. It is two feet wide and one foot high. There is a prediction that the island will be destroyed if a virgin is not thrown into the volcano every full moon. There are two problems with this ritual, the first being one of supply. It is also difficult to throw someone into a volcano that small. They have compromised by taking turns sitting on the volcano. Tourists throng the island at this time to film the colorful dance that follows called the OOO OOOW dance when the sacrifice leads the entire tribe in a wild dance where they all jump up and down fanning their posteriors with hats stolen from the tourists. This is followed by a ritual called, "The eating of the hats".
The rest of the time they keep a bean pot simmering on the volcano in hopes that someday a legendary being they call, "The sacred tourist" will show up with some beans.
More about this fascinating island tomorrow.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Well boys and girls time for your old uncle Hoody to spin another yarn. WARNING. IF YOU DON'T LIKE SILLY DON'T READ THIS. But then if you don't like silly what the heck are you doing here?
I got to thinking about travel books and National Geographic and ended up with this tale.
STRANGE FACTS ABOUT THE ISLAND OF MORANGI PORA PUNDA by Billy Whiskers
Morangi Pora Punda is the smallest inhabited island in the world. It has a population of 113. The population is evenly divided There are 56.5 men and 56.5 women. They have never pinned down who the odd one is. All the men are named Joe except one. His name is Sue. That might be a clue. All of the women are named Fancy. None of them are. The native dress consists of skirts made of Kelp. They wear them till they get dry and crackly and then go down to the beach to shop for new clothing. Their currency is hermit crabs and the richest man on the island is the one who owns the kelp concesion. He keeps his hermit crabs in pens which wash out at high tide so he has to declare bancruptcy twice a day.
The highest point on the island is 3.6 feet above sea level. During the high tides there are only 22 square feet of dry land above water. The women are hoisted onto the mens shoulders and everyone stands around and waits till the water goes down. This is an important part of their native courtship ritual. A woman must be sure a man can support her. Since there isn't room enough for everyone, some of them have to take turns treading water. This is done by drawing straws. There was a great deal of confusion five years ago when someone got hungry and ate the straws. Fortunately a broom washed up on the beach in the nick of time. The Guiness book of records reports that the world record for treading water is held by one of the islanders named Joe. He had eaten most of a case of garlic that washed up on the island and no one would allow him to stand next to them.
The natives do not trust anyone on the island to be head man and so Presidents are elected who are not native to the island. Past distinguished presidents include Mahatma Ghandi, Jane Goodall, Barbara Bush, Johnny Cash, Madonna and Tarzan. None of them ever heard of the Island and no one got around to telling them they had been elected.
Morangi Pora Punda's economy is supported by fleecing tourists and visiting anthropologists. Once a year a ship pulls in and picks up the fleeces trading them for canned Spam, soda crackers and Sam's Club diet coke. This, plus whatever washes up on the beach comprise the native diet. Their food is flavored by rolling it in the sand. Several years ago a cargo box full of shoes washed up on the beach. There was much rejoicing and it was almost a year before all the shoes were eaten. The cargo box was declared the Presidential Palace in case one of their Presidents ever finds out where they are and comes to visit.
Most of the islanders have pet octopi which they wear on their heads to protect them from the sun. This accounts for the circular red marks on their foreheads which many anthropologists have mistaken for tribal tattoos.
The Island of Morangi Pora Punda was once notorious for frequent shark attacks. Numbers have fallen in recent years since most of the sharks got tired of being attacked and left.
The Island has another claim to fame. Besides being the world's smallest inhabited island it also has the world's smallest volcano. It is two feet wide and one foot high. There is a prediction that the island will be destroyed if a virgin is not thrown into the volcano every full moon. There are two problems with this ritual, the first being one of supply. It is also difficult to throw someone into a volcano that small. They have compromised by taking turns sitting on the volcano. Tourists throng the island at this time to film the colorful dance that follows called the OOO OOOW dance when the sacrifice leads the entire tribe in a wild dance where they all jump up and down fanning their posteriors with hats stolen from the tourists. This is followed by a ritual called, "The eating of the hats".
The rest of the time they keep a bean pot simmering on the volcano in hopes that someday a legendary being they call, "The sacred tourist" will show up with some beans.
More about this fascinating island tomorrow.
SAY IT ON YOUR TEE SHIRT : http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Well I got the cat unstuck from the kitchen floor but I had to soak her down and use a spatula. The tile is nice and clean now but the cat's mad at me for soaking her down and now my old three legged dog is mad at me too cause the clean floor is too slippery for her to walk on. The only one that isn't mad at me is the Alzheimer Gal and that's prob'ly cause she doesn't know who I am half the time.
Speaking of the AG, she kind of loses control now and then so I have to keep her in Chucks. I was busy scrubbing the floor yesterday and she needed a change so she took care of it herself. The only trouble was she couldn't find the Chucks so she substituted a Vons plastic grocery bag. One leg through each handle. Of course they stuck at her knees and here she was trying to walk around wearing it. If you've ever hobbled a horse you get the idea. She walked like Charlie Chaplin without the cane.
Have fun. That's what it's all about.
Great tees and other clothing at: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Speaking of the AG, she kind of loses control now and then so I have to keep her in Chucks. I was busy scrubbing the floor yesterday and she needed a change so she took care of it herself. The only trouble was she couldn't find the Chucks so she substituted a Vons plastic grocery bag. One leg through each handle. Of course they stuck at her knees and here she was trying to walk around wearing it. If you've ever hobbled a horse you get the idea. She walked like Charlie Chaplin without the cane.
Have fun. That's what it's all about.
Great tees and other clothing at: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Friday, March 7, 2008
THE BARREL DEMON - Conclusion
Well boys and girls here it is. The conclusion of another exciting tale from a twisted brain. Let me know what you think. I'll take a couple of days before I start another story. I have to warn you. They just keep getting sillier. I have to go scrub the kitchen floor now. My cat just tried to cross it and she's stuck.
If you haven't already read parts one and two of this story scroll down and read them before this one.
THE BARREL DEMON - Conclusion
"His wife. That's another problem. Last week Harry gave his wife a mink stole. Now my Sadie won't be happy till she has a full length coat. Sable, she wants. Also she wants a whole outfit to match. I told her she wants to match a fur coat, she should let her mustache grow and quit shaving her legs."
Harry noticed that the demon was squirming around and kept scratching himself. "So what's with the wiggling? You doin the pee pee dance?"
"No it's those damn fanatics in that monastary again. Every time they start chanting and praying they give me the itch".
Foozbah straightened up, held his hand over his head, made a couple of peculiar motions and then snapped his hand downward. Lightning shot from his fingertips. Morrie heard a rumble of thunder, then saw the flash of lightning and smoke boiled out of the barrel. " Fit that into your theology you meatheads!!", the demon shouted.
"Boy this a lousy job" he said to Morrie.
"You think you got a lousy job? I had to cancel my whole show. I should stand around in a barrel while you work up a new fashion line".
"Oh Oh. Emergency here. The barbarians are about to attack my holy city. This ought to be good. I got something special planned"
"Now get the picture Morrie. My sacred city is on top of a mountain. In front of the mountain is a hill with the temple of virgins on it. Most of the time the temple's empty except for two old maid sisters. All around the mountain and hill there's a flat plain inhabited only by nomad barbarian tribes. Zamboni, one of the barbarian chiefs, has managed to unite the tribes into a huge army and that army is now advancing on the mountain".
"Why do they want the city if they're nomads?"
"Oh you know. Pillage, rape, loot. It's a barbarian thing. You wouldn't understand. Mostly though they want the sacred Talisman in the great golden temple. HOO HAH, Great golden temple? It's an ugly pile of rocks painted yellow".
"So what's with the sacred Talisman, they want it so bad?"
"It's supposed to bring great power to the one who has it. Actually it's a can opener. I was opening a can of beans and I dropped it when I cut my finger. Those idiots down there never invented cans so they have no idea what it is but it's shiny and it fell from the sky with a drop of my blood on it so of course it's sacred. It fell on the top of the mountain and they built a city around it. What kind of schlemiel builds a city on top of a steep mountain with no roads up? "
"So who wants a can opener with no cans? It's not good for anything else".
" So they invented a use for it. They use it to circumcise the new priests who must remain celibate after that. Believe me, when you been circumcized with a can opener, remaining celibate is a cinch. Hoo boy. Here they come, thundering across the plains on those ugly little horses. Now they're milling around at the foot of the hill of virgins. Such a disapointment they got coming. The two sisters ran to the edge of the hill and started beckoning to them".
"Enough already with the barbarians. What about my problem?"
" Come on Morrie, cut me some slack. This is more fun than I've had in years. I really got something great planned here".
"All right, already. I shouldn't spoil your fun. Then maybe we can work on my new fashion line?"
"I promise. Just let me have a little fun first. I don't get to rout a barbarian army every day. All right, here we go".
"The barbarians are holding a war council at the bottom of the hill. They are arguing over whether to capture the hill first of go on to the city. The old maids are setting out casseroles on a picnic table and inviting them to dinner. Finally, in desperation, they offer them milk and fudge brownies. OH OH Here we go. My secret weapon just arrived at the foot of the mountain. Get this Morrie. It's a stroke of genius if I have to say so myself.
I told the high priest to round up all the women they could find that weighed over 300 pounds. They have each been tattoed with my sacred mark, which by the way happens to be a footprint. They're dressed in flowing white robes."
The demon was beginning to giggle now.
"Here they come, marching up the hill. Such huffing and puffing you never heard. They sound like steam engines. Now they're TEE HEE lining up in a row on top of the hill. The barbarians catch sight of them HOO HOO. They're running for their horses. Now they're galloping up the hill. The barbarians got a thing about fat ladies. Their own tend to be scrawny. They're almost HEE HEE halfway up. The high priest blows his trumpet and all the ladies turn their backs to the enemy. HOO HAW. The barbarians are almost there. The high priest blows his trumpet again and all the ladies bend over AAAAHAHA. I can't stand it. They all pull up their skirts exposing the tattoo of my sacred footprint. They're mooning the barbarians!! THE HORSES ARE REARING. HOOOOHAAAAWHAAAW"
Foozbah was beating the side of the barrel and howling with laughter at his own outrageous pun. He almost fell out of it a couple of times.
"Oh Morrie, I wish you could see this. HAHAHAHA. That's it. They're falling off. The barbarians are beaten. They're limping back across the plain trying to catch their horses."
" So while you're fooling around with fat ladies in a barrel, Harry Goldstein is running away with my customers. Right now being a God in a barrel doesn't look so bad. We should trade places".
Foozbah stepped out of the barrel. "Thanks Morrie".
"I thought you weren't allowed out of the barrel."
"Well, you see Morrie I'm not really a demon. I made a wizard mad once and he put a spell on me. Once every thousand years somebody gets a chance to break the spell and today is that day". His pig snout was beginning to shrink and he was losing his green color.
Morries skin felt odd as though it was squirming around. "ME? You telling me I broke the spell all by myself?"
"You had to say it three times"
Three Morries appeared from thin air.
The first said,"You should try the garment business. You'd want back in the barrel in a week".
The second said,"I should stand around in a barrel while you work out a new fashion line".
The third said, "Right now being a God in a barrel doesn't look so bad. We should trade places".
The three Morries dissapeared with a popping sound.
"HEY!!!", shouted Morrie,"What's going on?" He was having trouble speaking as his nose stretched into a snout.
Foozbah was changing also. His snout had turned into a nose and his scales began to look like blue serge, a little ragged at the cuffs and baggy in the seat, just like Morries suit.
Only Morries suit wasn't a suit any more. It was scales. He was dismayed to find himself standing in a barrel.
"You see the only way I could get out of the barrel is for someone else to get in and they had to offer to do it three times".
"How do you like the new me Morrie"? Foozbah now looked exactly like the old Morrie Feldman. He brushed his hair over his bald spot with one hand.
"HEY, let me out of this thing". Morrie was trying to climb out of the barrel.
"Sorry Morrie. Maybe in a thousand years. Enjoy your new career. Not everybody has their very own world".
Foozbah scraped out the pentagram with his shoe and Morrie and the barrel both disappeared.
THE END
SOMEBODY PLEASE BUY SOMETHING OUT OF MY STORE. I CAN'T GET INTO MY GARAGE; http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
:.
If you haven't already read parts one and two of this story scroll down and read them before this one.
THE BARREL DEMON - Conclusion
"His wife. That's another problem. Last week Harry gave his wife a mink stole. Now my Sadie won't be happy till she has a full length coat. Sable, she wants. Also she wants a whole outfit to match. I told her she wants to match a fur coat, she should let her mustache grow and quit shaving her legs."
Harry noticed that the demon was squirming around and kept scratching himself. "So what's with the wiggling? You doin the pee pee dance?"
"No it's those damn fanatics in that monastary again. Every time they start chanting and praying they give me the itch".
Foozbah straightened up, held his hand over his head, made a couple of peculiar motions and then snapped his hand downward. Lightning shot from his fingertips. Morrie heard a rumble of thunder, then saw the flash of lightning and smoke boiled out of the barrel. " Fit that into your theology you meatheads!!", the demon shouted.
"Boy this a lousy job" he said to Morrie.
"You think you got a lousy job? I had to cancel my whole show. I should stand around in a barrel while you work up a new fashion line".
"Oh Oh. Emergency here. The barbarians are about to attack my holy city. This ought to be good. I got something special planned"
"Now get the picture Morrie. My sacred city is on top of a mountain. In front of the mountain is a hill with the temple of virgins on it. Most of the time the temple's empty except for two old maid sisters. All around the mountain and hill there's a flat plain inhabited only by nomad barbarian tribes. Zamboni, one of the barbarian chiefs, has managed to unite the tribes into a huge army and that army is now advancing on the mountain".
"Why do they want the city if they're nomads?"
"Oh you know. Pillage, rape, loot. It's a barbarian thing. You wouldn't understand. Mostly though they want the sacred Talisman in the great golden temple. HOO HAH, Great golden temple? It's an ugly pile of rocks painted yellow".
"So what's with the sacred Talisman, they want it so bad?"
"It's supposed to bring great power to the one who has it. Actually it's a can opener. I was opening a can of beans and I dropped it when I cut my finger. Those idiots down there never invented cans so they have no idea what it is but it's shiny and it fell from the sky with a drop of my blood on it so of course it's sacred. It fell on the top of the mountain and they built a city around it. What kind of schlemiel builds a city on top of a steep mountain with no roads up? "
"So who wants a can opener with no cans? It's not good for anything else".
" So they invented a use for it. They use it to circumcise the new priests who must remain celibate after that. Believe me, when you been circumcized with a can opener, remaining celibate is a cinch. Hoo boy. Here they come, thundering across the plains on those ugly little horses. Now they're milling around at the foot of the hill of virgins. Such a disapointment they got coming. The two sisters ran to the edge of the hill and started beckoning to them".
"Enough already with the barbarians. What about my problem?"
" Come on Morrie, cut me some slack. This is more fun than I've had in years. I really got something great planned here".
"All right, already. I shouldn't spoil your fun. Then maybe we can work on my new fashion line?"
"I promise. Just let me have a little fun first. I don't get to rout a barbarian army every day. All right, here we go".
"The barbarians are holding a war council at the bottom of the hill. They are arguing over whether to capture the hill first of go on to the city. The old maids are setting out casseroles on a picnic table and inviting them to dinner. Finally, in desperation, they offer them milk and fudge brownies. OH OH Here we go. My secret weapon just arrived at the foot of the mountain. Get this Morrie. It's a stroke of genius if I have to say so myself.
I told the high priest to round up all the women they could find that weighed over 300 pounds. They have each been tattoed with my sacred mark, which by the way happens to be a footprint. They're dressed in flowing white robes."
The demon was beginning to giggle now.
"Here they come, marching up the hill. Such huffing and puffing you never heard. They sound like steam engines. Now they're TEE HEE lining up in a row on top of the hill. The barbarians catch sight of them HOO HOO. They're running for their horses. Now they're galloping up the hill. The barbarians got a thing about fat ladies. Their own tend to be scrawny. They're almost HEE HEE halfway up. The high priest blows his trumpet and all the ladies turn their backs to the enemy. HOO HAW. The barbarians are almost there. The high priest blows his trumpet again and all the ladies bend over AAAAHAHA. I can't stand it. They all pull up their skirts exposing the tattoo of my sacred footprint. They're mooning the barbarians!! THE HORSES ARE REARING. HOOOOHAAAAWHAAAW"
Foozbah was beating the side of the barrel and howling with laughter at his own outrageous pun. He almost fell out of it a couple of times.
"Oh Morrie, I wish you could see this. HAHAHAHA. That's it. They're falling off. The barbarians are beaten. They're limping back across the plain trying to catch their horses."
" So while you're fooling around with fat ladies in a barrel, Harry Goldstein is running away with my customers. Right now being a God in a barrel doesn't look so bad. We should trade places".
Foozbah stepped out of the barrel. "Thanks Morrie".
"I thought you weren't allowed out of the barrel."
"Well, you see Morrie I'm not really a demon. I made a wizard mad once and he put a spell on me. Once every thousand years somebody gets a chance to break the spell and today is that day". His pig snout was beginning to shrink and he was losing his green color.
Morries skin felt odd as though it was squirming around. "ME? You telling me I broke the spell all by myself?"
"You had to say it three times"
Three Morries appeared from thin air.
The first said,"You should try the garment business. You'd want back in the barrel in a week".
The second said,"I should stand around in a barrel while you work out a new fashion line".
The third said, "Right now being a God in a barrel doesn't look so bad. We should trade places".
The three Morries dissapeared with a popping sound.
"HEY!!!", shouted Morrie,"What's going on?" He was having trouble speaking as his nose stretched into a snout.
Foozbah was changing also. His snout had turned into a nose and his scales began to look like blue serge, a little ragged at the cuffs and baggy in the seat, just like Morries suit.
Only Morries suit wasn't a suit any more. It was scales. He was dismayed to find himself standing in a barrel.
"You see the only way I could get out of the barrel is for someone else to get in and they had to offer to do it three times".
"How do you like the new me Morrie"? Foozbah now looked exactly like the old Morrie Feldman. He brushed his hair over his bald spot with one hand.
"HEY, let me out of this thing". Morrie was trying to climb out of the barrel.
"Sorry Morrie. Maybe in a thousand years. Enjoy your new career. Not everybody has their very own world".
Foozbah scraped out the pentagram with his shoe and Morrie and the barrel both disappeared.
THE END
SOMEBODY PLEASE BUY SOMETHING OUT OF MY STORE. I CAN'T GET INTO MY GARAGE; http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
:.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
THE BARREL DEMON - Part 2
If you haven't already read the first part of this story scroll down and do so now. You'll enjoy it beter if you read the beginning.
THE BARREL DEMON - Part 2 by BILLY WISKERS
"No, No, You don't understand. I make women's clothing. Now the problem is-"
"Hold on a minute Morrie" Foozbah help up a hand, then shouted into the barrel. "Knock it off you turkeys"
Morrie could dimly hear shouting and screaming coming from the barrel. "You got somebody in there with you?"
"Are you kiddin? I got a whole world in here. I'm their God which will give you an idea of what a crappy world they handed me".
"How can you get a whole world into that little barrel?"
"Well, it's a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside".
"This I gotta see", Morrie started to step forward.
Foozbah held up his hand again. "Hold it Morrie. If you step inside the pentagram the high council of demons will demand I tear you into little pieces and throw you in four different directions. Frankly I'm not up to it. They had the wine festival yesterday and the first twenty barrels are always mine. OY such a head I got".
Morrie turned pale and stepped back hurriedly. "You think YOU got troubles? You should try the garment business. Yesterday I caught my foreman and one of the girls from the cutting room fooling around. Now what they do on their coffee break is their own business but on a roll of my best Italian velvet? You know what that stuff costs? We should change places. You'd want back in the barrel in a week".
Foozbah looked into the barrel again. "Cheez, they're at it again. Two sects rioting against each other. One says I'm blue. The other says I'm green".
"To me you look kind of half way. What color do you think you are?"
"Depends on my mood. One of these days I'll turn myself yellow with purple polka dots and screw them all up. NAAAH. That would just start another sect".
"So could we get back to why I brought you here?"
"Sure, sure. By the way, you know if those candles go out----"
Morrie looked over at the candles. They were down to just a puddle of wax and starting to sputter. "OH NO!!", he turned to run.
Foozbah laughed so hard he had to hang on to the barrel to keep from falling down. "Get back here Morrie. I was yanking your chain. They're just for atmosphere. You didn't need them in the first place. By the way how much did that old Gypsy fraud charge you for them?"
"Twenty dollars -- each" said Morrie in a shaky voice. "She said they were made from special ingredients that came from a far off place"
"Yeah, China. She got a whole box of them at a flea market for three bucks. You're the first sucker dumb enough to buy any. So okay, what's the big deal? Why did you call on the power of the mighty Foozbah?"
"Well first off, Christian Dior I ain't. None of my customers live in Beverly Hills. Mostly they're housewives wanting to look good enough to go out for a movie and a hamburger. But we still got a new line and a fashion show every year. So I get all ready for my fashion show and here comes Harry Goldstein one day ahead of me. Every dress he shows is straight from my line. The thief!!! He stole every one of my designs".
"Too bad Morrie but what you expect me to do about it?"
" Maybe go to his house while he's asleep? Tell him you're gonna tear out his throat if he doesn't quit being such a goniff?"
"Hoo boy, have you got the wrong demon". Foozbah opened his mouth and Morrie saw a row of rounded teeth about as sharp as grapes. "Besides, I'm not allowed out of the barrel. How about I just give him a hickey and we let his wife kill him?"
Great tees and other clothing at: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
THE BARREL DEMON - Part 2 by BILLY WISKERS
"No, No, You don't understand. I make women's clothing. Now the problem is-"
"Hold on a minute Morrie" Foozbah help up a hand, then shouted into the barrel. "Knock it off you turkeys"
Morrie could dimly hear shouting and screaming coming from the barrel. "You got somebody in there with you?"
"Are you kiddin? I got a whole world in here. I'm their God which will give you an idea of what a crappy world they handed me".
"How can you get a whole world into that little barrel?"
"Well, it's a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside".
"This I gotta see", Morrie started to step forward.
Foozbah held up his hand again. "Hold it Morrie. If you step inside the pentagram the high council of demons will demand I tear you into little pieces and throw you in four different directions. Frankly I'm not up to it. They had the wine festival yesterday and the first twenty barrels are always mine. OY such a head I got".
Morrie turned pale and stepped back hurriedly. "You think YOU got troubles? You should try the garment business. Yesterday I caught my foreman and one of the girls from the cutting room fooling around. Now what they do on their coffee break is their own business but on a roll of my best Italian velvet? You know what that stuff costs? We should change places. You'd want back in the barrel in a week".
Foozbah looked into the barrel again. "Cheez, they're at it again. Two sects rioting against each other. One says I'm blue. The other says I'm green".
"To me you look kind of half way. What color do you think you are?"
"Depends on my mood. One of these days I'll turn myself yellow with purple polka dots and screw them all up. NAAAH. That would just start another sect".
"So could we get back to why I brought you here?"
"Sure, sure. By the way, you know if those candles go out----"
Morrie looked over at the candles. They were down to just a puddle of wax and starting to sputter. "OH NO!!", he turned to run.
Foozbah laughed so hard he had to hang on to the barrel to keep from falling down. "Get back here Morrie. I was yanking your chain. They're just for atmosphere. You didn't need them in the first place. By the way how much did that old Gypsy fraud charge you for them?"
"Twenty dollars -- each" said Morrie in a shaky voice. "She said they were made from special ingredients that came from a far off place"
"Yeah, China. She got a whole box of them at a flea market for three bucks. You're the first sucker dumb enough to buy any. So okay, what's the big deal? Why did you call on the power of the mighty Foozbah?"
"Well first off, Christian Dior I ain't. None of my customers live in Beverly Hills. Mostly they're housewives wanting to look good enough to go out for a movie and a hamburger. But we still got a new line and a fashion show every year. So I get all ready for my fashion show and here comes Harry Goldstein one day ahead of me. Every dress he shows is straight from my line. The thief!!! He stole every one of my designs".
"Too bad Morrie but what you expect me to do about it?"
" Maybe go to his house while he's asleep? Tell him you're gonna tear out his throat if he doesn't quit being such a goniff?"
"Hoo boy, have you got the wrong demon". Foozbah opened his mouth and Morrie saw a row of rounded teeth about as sharp as grapes. "Besides, I'm not allowed out of the barrel. How about I just give him a hickey and we let his wife kill him?"
Great tees and other clothing at: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
THE BARREL DEMON PART 1
I like to take established genre and stretch it till it gets slightly bent out of shape (some might say silly) With your kind indulgence I shall now attack Wizard Fantasy, which already lends itself to humor easily. This is part one. STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE. :-]
THE BARREL DEMON by BILLY WHISKERS
Morrie Feldman stood in his dingy basement. On the floor was a pentagram outlined in Gold Medal self rising flour. In the middle of the pentagram was a circle. Morrie lit a red candle at each of the points of the pentagram and then took a frayed scrap of paper out of his wallet. Consulting the paper he added a pinch of this and a touch of that from a stack of paper envelopes. He mixed them together in a frying pan on top of a gas barbecue grill. He then stood on tip toe and declaimed, in what he hoped was a booming voice, " Ramajistus freebang FOOOOOOOZBAH" As he squeaked out the last word he lit the barbecue grill. There was a ball of flame that neatly removed his left eyebrow and half of his mustache. This was followed by billows of green foul smelling smoke that gave him a coughing fit and brought tears to his eyes.
As the smoke began to clear he saw there was something in the circle. HE HAD DONE IT. HE, MORRIE FELDMAN, HAD SUMMONED A FIERCE DEMON. He looked again as the cloud lifted and could see that it was a barrel. A barrel?
From inside the barrel came a resounding HAAAAAAA-CHOO. Slowly a set of curved rams horns rose from the barrel. They were followed by a head covered with corroded looking green scales. The most startling thing of all was the long pink pig's snout.
"Hoo boy. That's some spell you got there. Where'd you get it, out of a box of Crackerjacks"?
"I'll have you know this spell cost me Five hundred dollars. Madame Spaviniski said it was the best money could buy"
"You BOUGHT a spell? What a schmuck. Don't you know you need a different spell for every demon and you can only use it once? For five hundred you think you get top of the line?"
Morrie sighed."Other people they cast a spell, they get a big scary demon that breathes fire. Morrie Feldman? Give him a pig in a barrel. What does he know? So all right. We work with what we got. Believe me, I'm used to second rate goods".
The demon pointed a green scaled finger with a chipped grubby claw at the end of it. Morrie thought it looked as though it could use a manicure.
"Watch it with the wise cracks Bub. I may not be much of a demon but I can still handle a shrimp like you."
"HOO HAH. I read the book. I got you trapped. You're stuck here till I turn you loose".
"A lawyer we got here. So you got a reason for calling the mighty Foozbah or you just like to make a lot of stinky sneezing powder?"
"Well, you see I'm in ladies garments".
"I don't do kinky hangups", said the demon as he slowly sank back into the barrel.
TO BE CONTINUED
PLEASE COME SEE MY NEATO STUFF: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
THE BARREL DEMON by BILLY WHISKERS
Morrie Feldman stood in his dingy basement. On the floor was a pentagram outlined in Gold Medal self rising flour. In the middle of the pentagram was a circle. Morrie lit a red candle at each of the points of the pentagram and then took a frayed scrap of paper out of his wallet. Consulting the paper he added a pinch of this and a touch of that from a stack of paper envelopes. He mixed them together in a frying pan on top of a gas barbecue grill. He then stood on tip toe and declaimed, in what he hoped was a booming voice, " Ramajistus freebang FOOOOOOOZBAH" As he squeaked out the last word he lit the barbecue grill. There was a ball of flame that neatly removed his left eyebrow and half of his mustache. This was followed by billows of green foul smelling smoke that gave him a coughing fit and brought tears to his eyes.
As the smoke began to clear he saw there was something in the circle. HE HAD DONE IT. HE, MORRIE FELDMAN, HAD SUMMONED A FIERCE DEMON. He looked again as the cloud lifted and could see that it was a barrel. A barrel?
From inside the barrel came a resounding HAAAAAAA-CHOO. Slowly a set of curved rams horns rose from the barrel. They were followed by a head covered with corroded looking green scales. The most startling thing of all was the long pink pig's snout.
"Hoo boy. That's some spell you got there. Where'd you get it, out of a box of Crackerjacks"?
"I'll have you know this spell cost me Five hundred dollars. Madame Spaviniski said it was the best money could buy"
"You BOUGHT a spell? What a schmuck. Don't you know you need a different spell for every demon and you can only use it once? For five hundred you think you get top of the line?"
Morrie sighed."Other people they cast a spell, they get a big scary demon that breathes fire. Morrie Feldman? Give him a pig in a barrel. What does he know? So all right. We work with what we got. Believe me, I'm used to second rate goods".
The demon pointed a green scaled finger with a chipped grubby claw at the end of it. Morrie thought it looked as though it could use a manicure.
"Watch it with the wise cracks Bub. I may not be much of a demon but I can still handle a shrimp like you."
"HOO HAH. I read the book. I got you trapped. You're stuck here till I turn you loose".
"A lawyer we got here. So you got a reason for calling the mighty Foozbah or you just like to make a lot of stinky sneezing powder?"
"Well, you see I'm in ladies garments".
"I don't do kinky hangups", said the demon as he slowly sank back into the barrel.
TO BE CONTINUED
PLEASE COME SEE MY NEATO STUFF: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
SOUR MASH HOG CONCLUSION
Well, here's the end of this story. Let me know what you think of it so I know if I'm on the right track. I have other tales if you like this one. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE FIRST TWO PARTS SCROLL DOWN AND READ THEM NOW OR THIS WON'T MAKE ANY SENSE TO YOU.
SOUR MASH HOG - CONCLUSION
Eb was going so fast when he hit bottom that he skipped across the surface like a stone skips on a pond. Alarmed by the racket the hog leaped to her feet, only to have her legs knocked from under her by the speeding Eb Bodeen.
Lafe returned to the edge of the sump with the rope, then stood there with his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out what he was seeing.
Eb was flat on his back in the mash, with the sow sitting on his chest. She just sat there with a silly drunken grin. Her tail was in Ebs face. Eb had both hands braced against the sow's rump to keep her from sliding any farther. He looked over at Lafe.
"Lafe iffen it's all the same to you I believe I've admired this here view long enuf. Be obleeged if'n you git this fat hog offa me"
Lafe tipped the jug again just to steady himself a bit, then crawled into the sump on his hands and knees so he wouldn't end up in the same predicament Eb found himself in.
Lafe walked around and around the hog studying the situation. Finally he began rocking the hog back and forth but each time he rocked her she slid higher on Eb's chest.
"WHOA thar Lafe. Ye keep thet up an you're agonna embarass me and this yere sow both".
Lafe walked in front of the sow out of Eb's sight. "Got me a idee"
Eb heard the gurgle of shine pouring from a jug. "Lafe effen yer agonna jest stand there guzzlin my shine at least pour a little down MY gullet"
Suddenly the sow gave a tremendous shudder and fell sideways off Eb's chest. Eb sat up and looked at her. "Ye stick er?"
"Naw", said Lafe. " I jest figgered if she got thet drunk on sour mash some a the real thing might finish her off"
It was coming on sundown and Eb still hadn't returned. Becky was getting concerned as she sat in the kitchen putting a patch on the patch on the seat of Eb's bib overalls.
Suddenly she heard something coming up the trail. It sounded for all the world like two men and a pig trying to sing, "Bringing In The Sheaves " in three part harmony. She went to the window and looked out just as they came around the bend where the trail divided. Eb and Lafe were riding on the biggest durn pig Becky had ever laid eyes on. As she watched, Lafe fell off the pig and started crawling down the track that led to his cabin. Eb and the pig came on. Becky sat down again and pretended she hadn't seen them.
She heard Eb beller, "Whoa thar ol gal, we's home". She heard the creak of the porch steps, then a thump as Eb fell flat onto the porch. She heard him fumbling at the draw latch and the door swung open. Eb staggered into the kitchen followed by the sow.
"Ye git thet filthy drunken animule outen my house", she yelled.
"Aw Becky, she's a good ol gal. If she hadn't hauled me outen thet sump I'da been a goner fer sure"
"Shet yer face Eb Bodeen. I were talkin to the pig".
END
PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT MY GOODIES: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
SOUR MASH HOG - CONCLUSION
Eb was going so fast when he hit bottom that he skipped across the surface like a stone skips on a pond. Alarmed by the racket the hog leaped to her feet, only to have her legs knocked from under her by the speeding Eb Bodeen.
Lafe returned to the edge of the sump with the rope, then stood there with his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out what he was seeing.
Eb was flat on his back in the mash, with the sow sitting on his chest. She just sat there with a silly drunken grin. Her tail was in Ebs face. Eb had both hands braced against the sow's rump to keep her from sliding any farther. He looked over at Lafe.
"Lafe iffen it's all the same to you I believe I've admired this here view long enuf. Be obleeged if'n you git this fat hog offa me"
Lafe tipped the jug again just to steady himself a bit, then crawled into the sump on his hands and knees so he wouldn't end up in the same predicament Eb found himself in.
Lafe walked around and around the hog studying the situation. Finally he began rocking the hog back and forth but each time he rocked her she slid higher on Eb's chest.
"WHOA thar Lafe. Ye keep thet up an you're agonna embarass me and this yere sow both".
Lafe walked in front of the sow out of Eb's sight. "Got me a idee"
Eb heard the gurgle of shine pouring from a jug. "Lafe effen yer agonna jest stand there guzzlin my shine at least pour a little down MY gullet"
Suddenly the sow gave a tremendous shudder and fell sideways off Eb's chest. Eb sat up and looked at her. "Ye stick er?"
"Naw", said Lafe. " I jest figgered if she got thet drunk on sour mash some a the real thing might finish her off"
It was coming on sundown and Eb still hadn't returned. Becky was getting concerned as she sat in the kitchen putting a patch on the patch on the seat of Eb's bib overalls.
Suddenly she heard something coming up the trail. It sounded for all the world like two men and a pig trying to sing, "Bringing In The Sheaves " in three part harmony. She went to the window and looked out just as they came around the bend where the trail divided. Eb and Lafe were riding on the biggest durn pig Becky had ever laid eyes on. As she watched, Lafe fell off the pig and started crawling down the track that led to his cabin. Eb and the pig came on. Becky sat down again and pretended she hadn't seen them.
She heard Eb beller, "Whoa thar ol gal, we's home". She heard the creak of the porch steps, then a thump as Eb fell flat onto the porch. She heard him fumbling at the draw latch and the door swung open. Eb staggered into the kitchen followed by the sow.
"Ye git thet filthy drunken animule outen my house", she yelled.
"Aw Becky, she's a good ol gal. If she hadn't hauled me outen thet sump I'da been a goner fer sure"
"Shet yer face Eb Bodeen. I were talkin to the pig".
END
PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT MY GOODIES: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Sour Mash Hog Part 2
Here's the second part of my Sour Mash Hog story. If you haven't already read part one read it first so you know what it's all about. Not all Mountain folks are like Eb 'N Lafe. Most are hard working church going respectable folks but I've met enough like these two reprobates to know them when I see them. A word about the dialect. It isn't from any one area so don't try to pin it down, but it's typical of the way Mountain Folks talk among themselves, or used to anyway. The whole culture is slowly dissapearing. Turkey Bone Ridge exists (Far as I know) only in my mind and, I hope, yours also now.
THE SOUR MASH HOG - part 2
"Know jest what you mean", said Lafe, "Lately the preacher been comin by ever week er so. Hain't it funny how preachers allus come callin at supper time? Anyways, ever time he comes by Edna gets to fussin about havin some ham an sidemeat to serve him up. Sez it ain't fittin to serve a preacher anythin else. I'd like to see how my foot would fittin the seat a his britches. Hain't like we's lackin meat. Me an my ol dog Revalation goes out couple times a week. Most allus brings home a coon er sechlike. Got us a turkey last month an' the preacher went through thet like a buzz saw through a pine knot. Whar she think I'm agonna come by a ham?"
Eb looked thoughtfull for a moment, then said,"Might could help you out. You ever et a sour mash hog Lafe? Sweetest meat they is".
"Cain't say as I have. Heard my pappy tell of them though".
"Wal sir, You know I cain't go dumpin the spent mash from my still inta the creek. Might's well tack up my pitcher on the Sheriff's doorjamb. So I got me a sinkhole whar I dump it. Lately a ol sow been showin up thar and eatin her fill of it most ever day. Fattest ol' thing you ever seed. I swear, you could set up a still on a bare rock in the middle a the desert an soon as thet first bucket a spent mash hit the ground thar'd be a hog jest like magic."
"Wal shoot", said Lafe,"Hog like thet would give both a us a big ol ham an bacon to cure out plus they all thet sow belly an side meat. When you agoin back in thar?"
"Jest so happens I got me a batch ready to jug up right now. You help me fetch the jugs an we'll git her whilst we's thar".
Eb disapeared into the storm cellar and Lafe could hear jugs rattling around. After a bit Eb came back out with a batch of empty jugs strung on ropes. He had another jug under his arm. He shook it by his ear. "Jest enough left in th' jug to git us thar"
They each took a hefty pull from the jug and slung a batch of empty jugs over their shoulder by the ropes, then started down the track to the still.
They reached the still and began to fill the first jug. Just then there was a crashing of brush followed by a sloshing, gurgling sound. They went over to look. The sow was wallowing in the spent mash. Her snout was under the surface and she was blowing big bubbles as she gobbled the mash.
'"Thar she be. Jest like i tolt ye"
"Lawdy, lawdy, bet she'll go two hunnert pound"
"More like three", said Eb, "I'm a good hand at guessin hogs".
A stricken look came over Lafe's face. "Eb. I'm a durn fool. I left my gun asettin on yer porch".
"Yep", said Eb,"Thet shine do have a way of pacifyin yer brain. Don't worry. Time we get these jugs filled, she'll be all drunked up on thet mash an sleepin it off. We kin jest sneak down an cut her throat. She won't even know she's daid till she wakes up in hog heaven".
They went back to filling jugs. First they put a siphon hose into the still barrel. Then of course they had to suck on the end to get it started. That left them with a mouthfull of shine an neither one was the wastefull type so down it went. They could have just pinched the hose shut while they changed jugs but that wasn't any fun so they pulled the siphon out each time and restarted it for the next jug. By the time they got the last jug filled they were in almost the same shape as the hog.
They spun around several times before they got their feet pointed in the right direction and lost the trail a couple times, even though it was only twenty feet to the sump. The sow was laying on her side in the mash, snoring loudly.
"I'll sneak down an take keer of her",said Eb,"You go fetch one a them ropes to haul her out'n thar."
Eb started into the sump but he hadn't taken more than two steps when his feet slid on the slippery mash and shot out straight in front of him. Down the slope he went like a runaway sled.
TO BE CONTINUED
PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT MY GOODIES: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
THE SOUR MASH HOG - part 2
"Know jest what you mean", said Lafe, "Lately the preacher been comin by ever week er so. Hain't it funny how preachers allus come callin at supper time? Anyways, ever time he comes by Edna gets to fussin about havin some ham an sidemeat to serve him up. Sez it ain't fittin to serve a preacher anythin else. I'd like to see how my foot would fittin the seat a his britches. Hain't like we's lackin meat. Me an my ol dog Revalation goes out couple times a week. Most allus brings home a coon er sechlike. Got us a turkey last month an' the preacher went through thet like a buzz saw through a pine knot. Whar she think I'm agonna come by a ham?"
Eb looked thoughtfull for a moment, then said,"Might could help you out. You ever et a sour mash hog Lafe? Sweetest meat they is".
"Cain't say as I have. Heard my pappy tell of them though".
"Wal sir, You know I cain't go dumpin the spent mash from my still inta the creek. Might's well tack up my pitcher on the Sheriff's doorjamb. So I got me a sinkhole whar I dump it. Lately a ol sow been showin up thar and eatin her fill of it most ever day. Fattest ol' thing you ever seed. I swear, you could set up a still on a bare rock in the middle a the desert an soon as thet first bucket a spent mash hit the ground thar'd be a hog jest like magic."
"Wal shoot", said Lafe,"Hog like thet would give both a us a big ol ham an bacon to cure out plus they all thet sow belly an side meat. When you agoin back in thar?"
"Jest so happens I got me a batch ready to jug up right now. You help me fetch the jugs an we'll git her whilst we's thar".
Eb disapeared into the storm cellar and Lafe could hear jugs rattling around. After a bit Eb came back out with a batch of empty jugs strung on ropes. He had another jug under his arm. He shook it by his ear. "Jest enough left in th' jug to git us thar"
They each took a hefty pull from the jug and slung a batch of empty jugs over their shoulder by the ropes, then started down the track to the still.
They reached the still and began to fill the first jug. Just then there was a crashing of brush followed by a sloshing, gurgling sound. They went over to look. The sow was wallowing in the spent mash. Her snout was under the surface and she was blowing big bubbles as she gobbled the mash.
'"Thar she be. Jest like i tolt ye"
"Lawdy, lawdy, bet she'll go two hunnert pound"
"More like three", said Eb, "I'm a good hand at guessin hogs".
A stricken look came over Lafe's face. "Eb. I'm a durn fool. I left my gun asettin on yer porch".
"Yep", said Eb,"Thet shine do have a way of pacifyin yer brain. Don't worry. Time we get these jugs filled, she'll be all drunked up on thet mash an sleepin it off. We kin jest sneak down an cut her throat. She won't even know she's daid till she wakes up in hog heaven".
They went back to filling jugs. First they put a siphon hose into the still barrel. Then of course they had to suck on the end to get it started. That left them with a mouthfull of shine an neither one was the wastefull type so down it went. They could have just pinched the hose shut while they changed jugs but that wasn't any fun so they pulled the siphon out each time and restarted it for the next jug. By the time they got the last jug filled they were in almost the same shape as the hog.
They spun around several times before they got their feet pointed in the right direction and lost the trail a couple times, even though it was only twenty feet to the sump. The sow was laying on her side in the mash, snoring loudly.
"I'll sneak down an take keer of her",said Eb,"You go fetch one a them ropes to haul her out'n thar."
Eb started into the sump but he hadn't taken more than two steps when his feet slid on the slippery mash and shot out straight in front of him. Down the slope he went like a runaway sled.
TO BE CONTINUED
PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT MY GOODIES: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sour Mash Hog
Might as well jump in and get my feet wet right away. This is only the first part of the story. If you like it let me know and we'll go on with it in a few days. have fun. That's what life's all about.
THE SOUR MASH HOG by BILLY WHISKERS
"Keer fer a chaw Lafe?" Lafe Gorse was sitting on the sagging front porch of Eb Bodeen's cabin on Turkey Bone Ridge. Lafe cut a healthy chunk out of the tobacco plug and handed it back. "Keep er", said Eb, "Got me a passell of em in the cabin. Rufus down to the gen'rl store gives me four dollar in trade fer evry gallon a shine I fetch him and gives me back the empties. Says it eases his rumatiz."
Lafe quickly tucked it into his bib overalls before Eb changed his mind."He drinkin it er rubbin it on?"
"Drinks it I reckon. Seems like he still got all his hide. You recollect when we rubbed some a my shine on that ol' spavined mule?"
Lafe laughed, "Kicked the whole back wall out of the shed an we didn't get her back till snow time".
They commenced a spittin contest using a chicken dropping on the third step for a target.
After a bit Eb spoke up again, "Don't women git the dangdest notions?" Lafe allowed they did.
"Got me all the tobaccer an shotgun shells an sech as I needed me so I asked Becky if she needed anything. CURTAINS by gawd. She wants curtains on all the winders."
"She skeered somebody gonna peek in at her?"
"Ol' Baar done jest thet last Spring. Caught her takin a bath. Skeert thet baar so bad he took off over Skully's Mountain. Had a big sign on his rump, sez 'Texas er bust"
Lafe laughed so hard he swallowed his chaw. Eb had to pound him on the back to get it up where it belonged.
TO BE CONTINUED
(Next installment we get into the Sour Mash Hog part)
My junk: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
THE SOUR MASH HOG by BILLY WHISKERS
"Keer fer a chaw Lafe?" Lafe Gorse was sitting on the sagging front porch of Eb Bodeen's cabin on Turkey Bone Ridge. Lafe cut a healthy chunk out of the tobacco plug and handed it back. "Keep er", said Eb, "Got me a passell of em in the cabin. Rufus down to the gen'rl store gives me four dollar in trade fer evry gallon a shine I fetch him and gives me back the empties. Says it eases his rumatiz."
Lafe quickly tucked it into his bib overalls before Eb changed his mind."He drinkin it er rubbin it on?"
"Drinks it I reckon. Seems like he still got all his hide. You recollect when we rubbed some a my shine on that ol' spavined mule?"
Lafe laughed, "Kicked the whole back wall out of the shed an we didn't get her back till snow time".
They commenced a spittin contest using a chicken dropping on the third step for a target.
After a bit Eb spoke up again, "Don't women git the dangdest notions?" Lafe allowed they did.
"Got me all the tobaccer an shotgun shells an sech as I needed me so I asked Becky if she needed anything. CURTAINS by gawd. She wants curtains on all the winders."
"She skeered somebody gonna peek in at her?"
"Ol' Baar done jest thet last Spring. Caught her takin a bath. Skeert thet baar so bad he took off over Skully's Mountain. Had a big sign on his rump, sez 'Texas er bust"
Lafe laughed so hard he swallowed his chaw. Eb had to pound him on the back to get it up where it belonged.
TO BE CONTINUED
(Next installment we get into the Sour Mash Hog part)
My junk: http://hoodat-teeshirts-andmore.ecrater.com/
Terms: Boring but we gotta have them
I hope you enjoy some of my tales and you are welcome to share them with friends or (better yet) refer them to this blog so long as you credit me under my pen name BILLY WHISKERS or this blog. What you are NOT welcome to do is reproduce or use them in any commercial manner. If you do that I'm comin to get you.
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