Winning Nehi Soda and Moon Pie

Enjoy MOTHER EARTH NEWS reader submitted regional American humor from the Last Laugh column.


| November/December 1983



Last Laugh

"The world is full of willing people, some willing to work, the rest willing to let them. " Robert Frost


ILLUSTRATION: MOTHER EARTH NEWS STAFF

"The world is full of willing people, some willing to work, the rest willing to let them. " Robert Frost

Well sir, lest the various misadventures the of boys of the Plum tree Crossin' Gen'ral Assembly sometimes git involved in make you forget that these fellers is all lazier'n Skeeter Ridges' hound (an' that critter's so indolent it won't scratch its own fleas . . . figurin' that it's easier to just wait for the first frost to kill them pests), I think it's about time for me to describe a more typical event in their lives . . . a friendly session of callin' the dog.

By the by, in case you don't know, "callin' the dog" is a sort of liars' contest in which the best prevaricator is supposed to win a prize hound for his efforts. Now round these parts, the winner don't genially git nothin' more'n a Nehi soda and a Moon Pie (courtesy of the General Store's proprietor, Sylvester T. Pennywhistle). Nonetheless, the fellers go at it just as hard as if they were lying for a blue-tick hound with a set of pedigree papers big as a Sears and Roebuck catalog!

Lafe Higgins started things of respectable enough by telling about the time he tried to visit a family relation out in Shut-In Gorge. "Uncle Higgins always were a hermit. Fact is, none of the family'd seen him since he run off 38 years ago, when he turned three and a half. Well, I wrote him to say I was comin' an' commenced to drive on out. The night were so dark a raindrop knocked on my car window and asked for a light so it could see how to hit the ground . . . the danged road were so crooked a gnat once broke its neck tryin' to negotiate a curve . . . an' the hill Unc lived on were so steep the wind had to use low gear to blow up over it. Well, when I finally got to the house, Uncle Higgins weren't there. They was a sign on the door, though. It read, `Moved to the country. Too many visitors'."

That yarn set Clarence Smithers mouth to whirring. "Heck, of Uncle Smithers use to like back country living his self. He was a trapper. I recall one day when he come batik home, bare-handed and empty-sacked, and cast his wife what was for supper.

" `Well,' she replied, `I found a couple of of caters and turnips, and I been boilin' them up to make a stew.'





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