4rum
10-01-2007, 01:28 AM
The Punkin Run
Now Uncle Burley is jest like most folks. He loves punkin pie. Don’t want no storebought neither! But pert’ near ever year if he can …er… ‘come up with’ a banty hen er bread poke of turnips, why he can sweet talk ol’ lady Grimandower into baking him one fresh.
The spring of ’56 was a bad one though. Rained. Rained a lot. Tumble Creek was a runnin’ out of ‘er banks most of April and May. The poor fishin’ had everyone upset, an’ then when plantin’ time come, seemed like no one could get the plowin’ done ‘er crops in. Ever’bodies ‘maters blighted and as fer punkins… well fergit that! The vines was little an’ spin’ly an’ the cold, wet weather caused the blossom to just drop off… ‘cept fer one.
The back of Chub Amick’s chicken coop laid to the south. Seems that last fall a somewhat absent minded squirrel thought that rotted pile of chicken dookie was easy diggin’, so he planted a seed there from the punkin patch an’ jest sorta forgot it. Well, long about May that seed sprouted. Nobody paid much mind as it was outta place and not even noticed till ‘bout June when Chub spied a big ol’ yeller blossom peekin’ out from behind the hen house. Chub decided to take a look.
There, under the shelter of the coop’s overhang, was a punkin vine. It weren’t no ordinary punkin vine neither… it was big! It had run toward the southeast corner to catch the mornin’ light and already the leaves was biggern’ pie plates!
"Hmmm, thought Chub, b’lieve I’ll leave ‘er an’ see what she does."
Well, what ‘she’ done was grow! By mid June one tiny punkin had set. By the fourth o’ July word was gettin’ around about Ellie May. Chub had done named ‘er an’ Ellie May was gettin’ to be a BIG girl! Wasn’t long ‘fore folks was stoppin’ by of a Sunday afternoon to take a look at Ellie. Well Ol’ Chub kinder took to all this attention and figger’d he might as well ‘milk’ it fer all it was worth… so that’s e’xactly what he done. Now everbody knows that if you feed a punkin sweet milk it’ll grow like crazy. Chub salvaged a L’oozie Ann coffee (with chicory) bucket from a little ‘fill’ he’d started up the holler. (This ‘fill’ by now held nigh on to fifty metric tons of ‘stuff’ Chub had ‘stored’ up there over the years, and would become a topic of interest in the flood of ’67).
Anyways, now an’ agin’ Chub’ed snip off a leaf an’ just stick the stem in the bucket. ‘Bout ever other day, he’d pour a quart of fresh cows milk from ol’ Fern in the bucket an’ Ellie May sucked it up. Now a steady diet of cow’s milk and chicken dookie might not sound that appetizin’ to ya’ll, but let me tell ye, Ellie May ‘preciated it! August seen ‘er pass a hunnerd pounds easy an’ by September she’s biggen’ a No. 3 wash tub! Chub thought briefly about pickin’ ‘er an’ takin’ ‘er over to the county fair, but Ellie was still growin’! The whole FFA chapter come by an’ give ‘er all kind of ribbons, so Chub weren’t too let down.
Now come October, Uncle Burley was frettin’ over the poor state of punkin’ patches all over Posey. Sure, he’d heard of Ellie May, but him an’ Chub was on the outs over a real bad experience on a pocket knife ‘drop’.
Folks if ya’ll don’t know what a knife drop is… well let me ‘splain it. See two fellers, of a sportin’ nature, can meet up most any where… outside the drug store… down at Elsie’s Bar None (parkin’ lot only, Elsie don’t ‘low no droppin’ inside)… ‘er like I said, most anywhere. Well without lettin’ the other feller see it, one feller sticks his hand in his pocket and says, "wanna drop?" An the other feller is kinder obligated.
Now everbody had done learn’t Chub Amick and avoided him like the game warden, but he snuck up on Uncle Burley when he was trying to stuff some air back in a rear tire of his ol’ pickup.
P’fip p’fip p’fip (them ol’ pumps was hard pressed to lift the back of a pickup truck, but nobody took the tire off just to pump it up).
P’fip p’fip p’fip…
"Aft’ noon Burley, wanna drop?" An, just like that Uncle Burley was caught. He straightened up, turned around and there was Chub… hand in his pocket… grinnin’ … ‘baccer juice a runnin’ off his chin.
The blood drained from Uncle Burley’s face an’ he swaller’d hard. In his pocket was a dang near new Barlow. Never had a stone on ‘er. Uncle Burley had just swapped his spare fer it not a hour ago, down on Kelsy’s Pike. Ed Fralin was tryin’ to get his youngest to the doctor. Whoopin’ cough. Ed’s ol’ truck had had a blow out. No patchin’ that one. Run ‘er plumb off the rim. Ed’s truck, settin’ skygogglin’ like that, blocked the whole durn road… so Uncle Burley stopped to see if he could help.
"WHOOOOOOOOOP...kaf, kaf, kaf."
"Elbert havin’ another spell," Burley asked politely?
"Yep," Ed said.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP…kaf, kaf, kaf."
"Looks like you had a blow out Ed".
"Yep," Ed said.
"A runnin’ without a spare, are ye Ed"?
"Yep," Ed said.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP… kaf, kaf, kaf."
"Elbert sounds like he’s gettin’ worse Ed".
"Yep," Ed said.
Ed didn’t talk much till you got him schnockered. Then he’s li’ble to spit out a whole sentence!!!
"Well I got a maypop I could swap ye. She orta git you to Posey I reckon," Uncle Burley offered. ‘Maypops’ was the name for ‘used’ tires bought fer two dollars apiece from down at Haynes’ junkyard. Usually ‘may’pop was a bit optomistic.
"You got anything you might want to swap fer it Ed"?
"Yep," Ed said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pocket knife.
"New Barlow," Ed said.
Uncle Burley was impressed… er, no, not with the knife, Barlows was common enough… Uncle Burley was impressed by the long conversation on Ed’s part. Uncle Burley figger’d Ed must be right partial to Elbert.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP..kaf, kaf, kaf."
Uncle Burley was right proud that he’d been able to help a neighbor… a neighbor with a new Barlow.
But…… back in front of Elsie’s…………
"Now Chub, I don’t reckon I’d have anythin’ you’d be inner’ested in." Uncle Burley was beginnin’ to sweat.
"That right,"? Chub sneered. He spit out a stream of ‘baccer juice, wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and stuck his hand back in his pocket. "I’s talkin’ to Ed Fralin down the street a while ago. Got a sick young’un. Said you’d stopped to hep him out over on the Pike."
"That right," Burley swaller’d hard?
"I offered to drop with him, Chub said, seems he didn’t have no knife. I asked him if he’d swapped it or lost it or somthin’. He said ‘yep’.
Since you’d been so ‘helpful’ to him I just figger’d Ed might’a let you have that new Barlow he’s been a sportin’."
"Now Chub, you know the rules, ya just cain’t take advantage of a feller. Droppin’ is a game of chance. It needs to be run fair like." A small crowd from inside Elsie’s had began to filter out. Uncle Burley knowed he was on the spot.
"Burley… you gonna drop ‘er not? ‘Sides, I might be holdin’ a Case double X." Chub’s offer to drop was now a challenge. Uncle Burley was trapped, he couldn’t back down in front of the boys. He slowly reached into his pocket and closed the Barlow tightly in his fist.
continued...
Now Uncle Burley is jest like most folks. He loves punkin pie. Don’t want no storebought neither! But pert’ near ever year if he can …er… ‘come up with’ a banty hen er bread poke of turnips, why he can sweet talk ol’ lady Grimandower into baking him one fresh.
The spring of ’56 was a bad one though. Rained. Rained a lot. Tumble Creek was a runnin’ out of ‘er banks most of April and May. The poor fishin’ had everyone upset, an’ then when plantin’ time come, seemed like no one could get the plowin’ done ‘er crops in. Ever’bodies ‘maters blighted and as fer punkins… well fergit that! The vines was little an’ spin’ly an’ the cold, wet weather caused the blossom to just drop off… ‘cept fer one.
The back of Chub Amick’s chicken coop laid to the south. Seems that last fall a somewhat absent minded squirrel thought that rotted pile of chicken dookie was easy diggin’, so he planted a seed there from the punkin patch an’ jest sorta forgot it. Well, long about May that seed sprouted. Nobody paid much mind as it was outta place and not even noticed till ‘bout June when Chub spied a big ol’ yeller blossom peekin’ out from behind the hen house. Chub decided to take a look.
There, under the shelter of the coop’s overhang, was a punkin vine. It weren’t no ordinary punkin vine neither… it was big! It had run toward the southeast corner to catch the mornin’ light and already the leaves was biggern’ pie plates!
"Hmmm, thought Chub, b’lieve I’ll leave ‘er an’ see what she does."
Well, what ‘she’ done was grow! By mid June one tiny punkin had set. By the fourth o’ July word was gettin’ around about Ellie May. Chub had done named ‘er an’ Ellie May was gettin’ to be a BIG girl! Wasn’t long ‘fore folks was stoppin’ by of a Sunday afternoon to take a look at Ellie. Well Ol’ Chub kinder took to all this attention and figger’d he might as well ‘milk’ it fer all it was worth… so that’s e’xactly what he done. Now everbody knows that if you feed a punkin sweet milk it’ll grow like crazy. Chub salvaged a L’oozie Ann coffee (with chicory) bucket from a little ‘fill’ he’d started up the holler. (This ‘fill’ by now held nigh on to fifty metric tons of ‘stuff’ Chub had ‘stored’ up there over the years, and would become a topic of interest in the flood of ’67).
Anyways, now an’ agin’ Chub’ed snip off a leaf an’ just stick the stem in the bucket. ‘Bout ever other day, he’d pour a quart of fresh cows milk from ol’ Fern in the bucket an’ Ellie May sucked it up. Now a steady diet of cow’s milk and chicken dookie might not sound that appetizin’ to ya’ll, but let me tell ye, Ellie May ‘preciated it! August seen ‘er pass a hunnerd pounds easy an’ by September she’s biggen’ a No. 3 wash tub! Chub thought briefly about pickin’ ‘er an’ takin’ ‘er over to the county fair, but Ellie was still growin’! The whole FFA chapter come by an’ give ‘er all kind of ribbons, so Chub weren’t too let down.
Now come October, Uncle Burley was frettin’ over the poor state of punkin’ patches all over Posey. Sure, he’d heard of Ellie May, but him an’ Chub was on the outs over a real bad experience on a pocket knife ‘drop’.
Folks if ya’ll don’t know what a knife drop is… well let me ‘splain it. See two fellers, of a sportin’ nature, can meet up most any where… outside the drug store… down at Elsie’s Bar None (parkin’ lot only, Elsie don’t ‘low no droppin’ inside)… ‘er like I said, most anywhere. Well without lettin’ the other feller see it, one feller sticks his hand in his pocket and says, "wanna drop?" An the other feller is kinder obligated.
Now everbody had done learn’t Chub Amick and avoided him like the game warden, but he snuck up on Uncle Burley when he was trying to stuff some air back in a rear tire of his ol’ pickup.
P’fip p’fip p’fip (them ol’ pumps was hard pressed to lift the back of a pickup truck, but nobody took the tire off just to pump it up).
P’fip p’fip p’fip…
"Aft’ noon Burley, wanna drop?" An, just like that Uncle Burley was caught. He straightened up, turned around and there was Chub… hand in his pocket… grinnin’ … ‘baccer juice a runnin’ off his chin.
The blood drained from Uncle Burley’s face an’ he swaller’d hard. In his pocket was a dang near new Barlow. Never had a stone on ‘er. Uncle Burley had just swapped his spare fer it not a hour ago, down on Kelsy’s Pike. Ed Fralin was tryin’ to get his youngest to the doctor. Whoopin’ cough. Ed’s ol’ truck had had a blow out. No patchin’ that one. Run ‘er plumb off the rim. Ed’s truck, settin’ skygogglin’ like that, blocked the whole durn road… so Uncle Burley stopped to see if he could help.
"WHOOOOOOOOOP...kaf, kaf, kaf."
"Elbert havin’ another spell," Burley asked politely?
"Yep," Ed said.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP…kaf, kaf, kaf."
"Looks like you had a blow out Ed".
"Yep," Ed said.
"A runnin’ without a spare, are ye Ed"?
"Yep," Ed said.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP… kaf, kaf, kaf."
"Elbert sounds like he’s gettin’ worse Ed".
"Yep," Ed said.
Ed didn’t talk much till you got him schnockered. Then he’s li’ble to spit out a whole sentence!!!
"Well I got a maypop I could swap ye. She orta git you to Posey I reckon," Uncle Burley offered. ‘Maypops’ was the name for ‘used’ tires bought fer two dollars apiece from down at Haynes’ junkyard. Usually ‘may’pop was a bit optomistic.
"You got anything you might want to swap fer it Ed"?
"Yep," Ed said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pocket knife.
"New Barlow," Ed said.
Uncle Burley was impressed… er, no, not with the knife, Barlows was common enough… Uncle Burley was impressed by the long conversation on Ed’s part. Uncle Burley figger’d Ed must be right partial to Elbert.
"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP..kaf, kaf, kaf."
Uncle Burley was right proud that he’d been able to help a neighbor… a neighbor with a new Barlow.
But…… back in front of Elsie’s…………
"Now Chub, I don’t reckon I’d have anythin’ you’d be inner’ested in." Uncle Burley was beginnin’ to sweat.
"That right,"? Chub sneered. He spit out a stream of ‘baccer juice, wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and stuck his hand back in his pocket. "I’s talkin’ to Ed Fralin down the street a while ago. Got a sick young’un. Said you’d stopped to hep him out over on the Pike."
"That right," Burley swaller’d hard?
"I offered to drop with him, Chub said, seems he didn’t have no knife. I asked him if he’d swapped it or lost it or somthin’. He said ‘yep’.
Since you’d been so ‘helpful’ to him I just figger’d Ed might’a let you have that new Barlow he’s been a sportin’."
"Now Chub, you know the rules, ya just cain’t take advantage of a feller. Droppin’ is a game of chance. It needs to be run fair like." A small crowd from inside Elsie’s had began to filter out. Uncle Burley knowed he was on the spot.
"Burley… you gonna drop ‘er not? ‘Sides, I might be holdin’ a Case double X." Chub’s offer to drop was now a challenge. Uncle Burley was trapped, he couldn’t back down in front of the boys. He slowly reached into his pocket and closed the Barlow tightly in his fist.
continued...