Last Laugh: Mud Season and the Greased Pig Chase

With Mud Season (aka the month of March) having disrupted their usual activities, the Plumtree Crossing Inebriation Society decides to do their part for sick children by hosting a greased "pig" chase.

| March/April 1983

last laugh - mud season

No one will ever really know why or how mud season brought out a charitable impulse in certain denizens of Plumtree Crossing.

Illustration by the MOTHER EARTH NEWS Staff

"There's no fool like an old fool; you can't beat experience." Jacob M. Braude

Well sir, 'round these parts, most folks know there're five seasons to the year: spring, summer, fall, winter, an' mud. An' as you kin imagine, nary a soul here's fond of the annual axle-buryin' spell (it's sorta to weather what kudzu is to crops). But there ain't nobody hates mud season worse'n the ol' store-loafin' galoots what constitute the Plumtree Crossin' Gen'rally Inebriated Society. Jist grab yerself an earful of the fellers' conversation on a recent March afternoon, and you'll soon see what I mean.

"Purvis!" Ott Bartlett bellowed. "My gullet's as parched as Satan's cornpatch. I lie in dire need of your homemade tonic ' "

"Don't tell me about it!" Purvis Jacobs snapped back. "Y know I ain't got any!"

"Well, you don't need to go remindin' me of thet mizzerble fact, do you?" Ott retorted.

All in all, it were plain to see thet those two was feelin' feistier'n cornered crawdads. An' all the rest of the ol' boys was obviously jist as ill-tempered, 'cause they took ev'ry chance they could to toss a "you tell 'im!" ... a "durned right!" ... or a downright unrepeatable expletive into the discussion. As any fool could perceive, the members of the Plumtree Crossin' Truth and Veracity League was sorely missin' their social lubricant, thet all-purpose peacemakin' potion: corn whiskey.

Fer security reasons, you see, Mister Jacob's likker-makin' facility was tucked way back up in a holler thet takes little short of a miracle to drive to in the best of weather. It's flat impossible to reach durin' the soggy month of March. As Purvis often put it, "When the mud's here, the moonshine ain't."

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