A Hick for a Hick

Published by in Humor
22nd Nov 2010

     By the end of this here story, you will learn of a strange phenomenon.  I am one and accept all responsibility and accountability for being the cause of it.

     Saturday came and Bird-mouthed Bob Bigalow came with it like he came for the last thirty years to get his weekly hair cut at Hick’s.  Myself, my role is simple: to say very little and to be less seen.  All I do is cut hair and farm.

     Your father–we called the ole’ boy, Fetch!  You know?  Soul man could run down one of them there field horses faster than moonshine flowing over the barrel–never mind–a deer-boy!  Ain’t nothing wrong with boy-boy?

     “Reckon not!  You are older.”

      And, your mother, Pig Tail, with her long black hair, spade lady could smoke a ham, cook it in pineapple juice, and the whole south would savor it.  Can you smoke a ham like your mother?

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     “Reckon not!  Always preferred jerky!”

      Boy!  That is not no hair tonic!  Give me some of that hidden whiskey!  “Glump!”  “Glump!”  See you got some corn growing over yonder in them there fields, some cows in the pasture.  Going to use all of it to pay the bills-boy?

      “Reckon so!”

       Right then, a fly entered.  It was Something or Somebody else’s fly and this one had the nerve to be magic. It landed on the back of Bird-mouthed Bob’s neck.

      “Smack!”  I slapped.

       Did you get the dead bled thing after all of that?

      “Reckon not!”

       You probably scared it off, though.  You colored folks are good at scaring things off.  I once saw one of y’all fight with lightning and scared off the rain.  You talk about pow wow!  Can you do that-boy?  Can you do that?”

       “Reckon not!”

        The fly entered again and landed on the back of Bird-mouth Bob’s neck.

        “Smack!”  I slapped.

         Did you get the fool-cotton thing this time?  I don’t like no fly hanging around me.  You have to get control of your pets and keep your animals away from me.  Get your cowboy hat, the shotgun, and your shit-kicking boots and keep that fly away from me–you hear?

        “Reckon so!”

         The fly entered again and landed on the back of Bird-mouthed Bob’s neck!

          “Smack!”  I slapped.

           Did you get the black bastard this time.  The dead blame thing acts like I am dying!  Am I dying?

           “Reckon not!”

           The fly entered again and landed on the back of Bird-mouthed Bob’s neck!

            “Smack!”  I slapped.

            Did you ROOT that sucker out this time–kind of smash him away from its beginnings and leave only its crushed corpse for the Generations?

           “Reckon not!”

            The fly entered again and landed on the back of Bird-mouth Bob’s neck!

           “Smack!” I slapped.

           I hope you killed the leech this time; because, you are killing me!  Are you trying to kill me–boy?

          “Reckon not!”

           Are you almost done?

          “Reckon so!”

            How do I look?

          “Handsome haircut and a bit scening!”

  • SoulRosa

    Now thatis humourous…. Made me laugh for sure… Noisy flies don’t die easily… :D

  • Mr.Reggie

    Excellent Write!!

  • PSingh1990

    Nice Share.

    :-)

  • Kaye TM

    lol. what an enjoyable read! that was long. i really like it. write some more.