Wedding Tales: The Last Laugh

News of one young man's plans to reform his ways and marry the girl of his dreams prompt the loafers of Plumtree Crossing to share their wedding tales.

| January/February 1981

"The small town I came from achieved zero population growth a long time ago. Every time a baby was born some guy left town!"—Sam Levenson

When I was a boy I was told anybody could become president ... I'm beginning to believe it! "—Clarence Darrow

"A government that robs Peter to pay Paul can always count upon the support of Paul."—George Bernard Shaw

Well sir, the changeover 'twixt one year an' the next seems to occasion all manner of goin's on from one end of this land to t'other. An' you kin jist bet thet the ol' reprobates who toast their galoshes on the Plumtree Crossin' Gen'ral Store's potbelly stove ain't no exception to the rule!

Why, in point of fact, Young Billy Parsons set the whole pack of 'em off on a round of foolishness along about the first week in December. It seems the lad approached the gathered worthies one day in what appeared to be a mood of high seriousness.

"If it ain't young Parsons," Ott Bartlett spoke up by way of greetin' the striplin'. "Boy, you look 'bout as pleased with yerself as a first-time broody hen ... which—to my way of thinkin' at least—jist ain't right in a sprout of yer tender years."

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