Skunky and Elmer

Skunky Wilson, my childhood friend and cohort in mischief, lived with his family on a farm not may miles outside of our sleepy little town Boogerhollow (the "hollow" part of the name being pronounced holler). As far as farms go the Wilson's was by no means what you'd call a huge spread, but it produced a enough income to enable Skunky's dad to nicely supplement his teaching salary at the local community college. The farm was also where the Wilsons learned a valuable lesson in animal husbandry--never make a pet of a critter that's destined to end up on the end of your dinner fork.

It started in the spring of Skunky's eleventh year. Though the Wilson's little ranch mostly produced crops, Mr. Wilson had been contemplating trying his hand at raising a pig. So, no one was too surprised the day he brought home a piglet he'd bought from a neighboring farm.

Skunky and his younger sister and brother immediately fell in love with the little pig. By evening, much to Mr. Wilson's chagrin, they named the pig Elmer and began treating him like a household pet, much like city folk treat their dog or cat. Likewise, Elmer became very attached to the Wilson kids. He even thought of himself as one of them.

Before long, Elmer began following the kids everywhere they went. In fact, Elmer was so accustomed to following his human pals around he'd tag along behind them on their morning walk to catch the school bus. After the kids loaded the bus and it departed, Elmer trotted back home.

Now, the funny thing about that darn pig was his uncanny sense of timing. You see, he somehow knew when the school bus would return, and as his comrades stepped out of the bus there would be Elmer patiently waiting for them.

Some evenings, after homework and chores were done, the Wilson kids would get Elmer's favorite blue ball and play catch with him in the front yard. After a bit, Elmer would tire and he'd stretch out on the lawn, yawn, and take a short nap.

The months went by fast. Soon a snowy winter arrived. Often, Elmer and the children would wrestle or play chase in the snow. Sometimes they'd play follow the leader with Elmer in the lead, making furrows in the snow with his snout.

On bitter-cold days, Skunky's little sister would sneak the pig upstairs and play dress-up with him. One time, Skunky's mom heard a big commotion and raced upstairs to see what all the fuss was about. When she reached the top step there was Elmer, running in circles, trying to shake off Mrs. Wilson's new Sunday church dress that Skunky's sister had dressed him in.

"Git that pig out of my new dress!" Mrs. Wilson shouted. "Goodness gracious, I don't need to be replacing clothes I haven't even worn yet."

In about a year or so, Elmer had grown to a respectable size and Mr. Wilson decided he had put it off long enough. It was time to introduce Elmer to the butcher. So, early one Saturday morning Skunky's dad loaded Elmer in the back of his truck and headed to the butcher's place.

To say the least, that night and for many nights after, there was an atmosphere of quiet mourning in the Wilson home. Skunky and his siblings moped around the house, and some nights they even dreamt about their dear departed friend.

Now, it's said time heals all wounds. Skunky's mom must have believed in that because a few months after Elmer's demise, she invited Ruthy, her old spinster of an aunt, to a nice Sunday roast dinner.

After the family gathered around the table and said grace, everyone began dishing up their plates. As Aunt Ruthy stabbed a big ole piece of roast with a fork, she asked the one question that, as far as Mr. Wilson was concerned, she could have gone all night without asking, "Hey, I just realized I haven't seen Elmer around. What happened to him anyway?"

"Well, uh, yer a-eatin' him," Mr. Wilson stammered.

And that's all it took to set off a commotion. First, Skunky, his sister, and his brother started bawling in unison. At the same time, Aunt Ruthy let out a gasp and dropped her fork to her plate. She then joined the procession of bawlers.

Well, all of the sobbing must have gotten to Mrs. Wilson. Even though she never really thought of Elmer as a pet, she too began weeping over that silly little pig.

As you can imagine, it wasn't long until everyone had lost their appetite for pork, and Skunky's mom ended up giving the frozen remains of Elmer to people who weren't so well acquainted with the pig.

Later, Skunky informed me that he was thinking of becoming a vegetarian. I told him to seriously think it over. After all, changing religions is not a matter to be taken lightly.

Ode to Ole Dixie

On his 1992 C.D., Seminole Wind, John Anderson recorded a song by Bobby Braddock titled, Look Away. It's sort of a "State of the Union" message or commentary concerning that geographical part of the U.S. we call the South. It is, I believe, an accurate observation.

NOTE: This post is in no way meant to be a criticism or derogatory commentary concerning any one individual or group of individuals; after all, it's said the only constant in life is change.

Look Away

Bobby took a trip to his Georgia hometown
To the land of his dreams and just to have a look around
He parked his car at the courthouse square
But it was like a ghost town there was nobody there
And Jim's Drugstore was a tanning salon
He asked an old man, "Where's everybody gone?"
He found them out at the shopping center
Where highway 1 meets interstate 20
And the country boys weren't wearing overalls
They were wearing suits made of camouflage
Southern Bells talking like valley girls
He scratched his head and said, "What in the world?"

Dixie's had a face lift I guess she's looking better
But I kind of like the old one
I never will forget her
Look away!

Johnny took a trip to his Florida hometown
To the land of his dreams and just to have a look around
At first he thought that he was on the wrong road
'Cause he didn't see any orange groves
Now [big theme parks] and condos grew on the land that he once knew
He saw the city limit sign and guessed he'd crossed the city line
There were strangers everywhere he went
With loud sport shirts and strange accents
They took the North and moved it south
He said "Shut my redneck mouth!"

Dixie's had a face lift I guess she's looking better
But I kind of like the old one
I never will forget her
Look away!

Benny took a trip to his Tennessee town
To the land of his dreams and just to have a look around
He drove his car down Music Row to look up stars he used to know
But the secretaries wouldn't let him in, "Leave your name and call again"
So he thought he'd get some barbecue at little place that he once knew
But all he found were sushi bars and dealerships with foreign cars
And Buildings that reach for the sky
He said, "Where the hell am I?"

Dixie's had a face lift I guess she's looking better
But I kind of like the old one
I never will forget her
Look away, gone away, far away, Dixieland

The Slob Olympics? Now You're Talking

In just a few days the Winter Olympics will begin, and for many of us the games provide an exciting diversion from our otherwise dreary, uneventful lives. But as much as I enjoy them, I'd rather see an Olympic tournament that the average person could not only relate to but could participate in. Something along the lines of the Slob Olympics. Now, that's a contest my sons and I could really excel in, might even bring home the gold as they say. So, let the games begin!

One of the first contests to be held at the Slob Olympics will be the Flat Surface Fandango. This game is similar to the home version. The object of this event is to pile as much stuff as possible--papers, pens, pencils, crayons, scissors, books, check stubs, hats, paper clips, etc--on an end table without any of it falling to the floor. Points will be deducted if that happens.

Another popular game to be played at the Slob Games will be the Over-Looking-A-Much-Needed-Object contest. This game will be a contest between teams consisting of the athletes and their mothers. Each athlete will be given a container of miscellaneous items similar the articles used in the Flat Surface Fandango. After scattering the contents of the container throughout the house, the athletes will then holler to their mothers for help in finding one of said items, "Maaaaaum, have you seen my notebook? Or, "Mother, what did YOU do with my socks?"
Once that helpless, pathetic holler is made, the mother of the athlete will have 45 seconds to locate the particular item her son or daughter can't find. Since the contestants' moms have been in training all of their children's lives, and since most of the items that are lost are actually in plain sight, most mothers will finish their task before the allotted time runs out. So, of course, the mother with the fastest time in finding the lost object will win the most points. But points will also be given for the best holler (woefull tone of hopelessness, projection, quality of whining, originality of one's holler, etcetera, etcetera). Could make for an exciting competition, don't you think?

Finally, the third example of the type of contests that will be held at the Slob Olympics is the Greasy Grime Cook Off. This is a simple contest consisting of a portable electric grill set on a kitchen counter and an infinite amount of raw hamburger. The object for each contestant will be to build as much grease on the kitchen counter as possible by frying hamburger patties on the grill. The thicker the build up of grease the more points a contestant gains. But, to make the event a bit more interesting, if a contestant gets a grease fire going that person would win bonus points for the team. Bonus points, too, will be given to any contestant who tries to squelch the aforementioned grease fire with water. The person who does this not only earns extra points but will also win free medical treatment for the 3rd degree burns that are sure to result from being splattered by the hot grease. Come to think of it, the more severe the burns the more points given.

There you have it, three examples of the games that will be played in the Slob Olympics. And just in case my dream of these games comes true, I'd better start practicing for the event I most excel in...The Bathroom Bravado. I'll leave it up to your imagination as to what that involves.