Date: Sun, 16 Feb 1997 22:05:00 -0500 From: Rqymond McDowell Subject: INT: Hillbilly Haven: I wuz sittin' in muh rockin' chair by the pickel barrel in the general store, ruminatin' over the day an' listenin' t' Little Jimmy Dickens on the radio, when Bertha Mae snuck into the store and started whinin'. "Doc Gentry! Hound Murdoch an' Mountain Goat Sims is out in the middle of the street a'fightin' over li'l ol' me agin'. I wuz hopin' Sheriff Li'l Brick 'd come out an' stop 'em, but he jes' shuttered up his winders and turned off his kerosene lantern an' is pertendin' they ain't nobody home. Whut are we goin' t' do?" "Quit yer bellyachin', Bertha Mae. It ain't becomin' in a full growed female. I'm warnin' ya', girl! This is all 'cause of yer teasin' and flirtin'. Yer alla 16 years old an' you still ain't settled down. Woman yer age shouldn't orta still be tossin' around y'r favours. Or'ta be turin' out th' nex' generation an' larnin' t' be a proper wife." "But I want more outta life than t' be jes' anuther hillbilly sex siren, Doc. I wanna travel an' see the world. I wanna see the county fair an' maybe even go up to the state capital an' see whut the big city is like." "Now, you lissen to me, girl. You shuck them fancy dreams o' yourn outta your haid. Them big citys is all fulla carpet baggers, scalleywags, scoundrels and villains. Why, they'd take a innercent girl lak you an' turn you into a brazen hussy. You'd stay out past sundown and take to smokin' fancy cigars. No girl, you gotta go out thar an' choose one o' your first cousins, jes' like your 11 sister did a'fore ya. Either clumsy ol' Hound or that moonshine makin' Moutain Goat 'd make right decent matches for a girl like you." Bertha Mae stood there, lookin' all forlorn. I could tell she wanted to say somethin' but was afraid to. I was just about t' offer her a pickel to console her when a fancy lookin' fella stepped in. He was a cityslicker, I could tell. He had on one o' them fancy straw hats and a checkered suit with matchin pants. He was thin, with his his hair all greased up and slicked back and wore a pencil thin mustache. Here was trouble f'r sure. "Howdy," he said, all smooth and oily. "Ah'm a salesman and ah'm lookin' f'r the Pidgin place. "I heered they gots a beeeoootiful daughter out thar an' I'm desirin' t' offer them folks a nice set o' chastity belts an' a set of encyclopedias." "What's yor name, stranger," I said all suspicious-like. "Why, Beuaregard Timerious, sir. An' what is the name o' this lovely sprang flower you got talkin' to ya?" Bertha Mae done went all liqiud and gushy on the city slicker. She cooed raht up to 'im and fluttered her bushy eye lashes at him ahd swanged her hips at him an' her voice went all baby-girl soft at him. "Why sir," she said. "I'm Bertha Mae Pidgin, an' I'd be happy t' show you over t' muh Pa's place. I'm sure we'd be happy to put you up for the night.....even though we only got one bed f'r all of tuh sleep in." As I sat there in my rockin' chair, I could smell it, as sour as BubbaWoof's droppins. They was a whole new brand o' trouble that just come to town. Rqy http://www.hk.super.net/~kenjoe/ (click on the button in the right hand corner that says "Rays Page")