Bobo’s old truck rattled in one Saturday about four. White-headed kids in overalls piled out of the back, their bare feet kicking up a dust. Fishing poles dangled out of the truck bed. Grinning, Bobo slung a stringer of bream over his shoulder. Inez slid out of the front seat, wagging a newborn and helping her twin toddlers slide to the ground. One was diapered, one not. She laughed, explaining, “His britches stunk too bad for the front. Sometimes that busted glass works out purty good! The kids in the back didn’t care nohow long as the truck was a’movin’.”
While Daddy and Bobo cleaned the fish, Mother and Inez peeled potatoes. Long before the days of paper plates, we had to make do. The bigger kids got to sit on the kitchen floor with pie plates. Fried fish and French-fries were finger food. Toddlers sat at the table next to their mamas. As the adults started eating, I was amazed when Inez casually pulled out an enormous breast. Her baby rooted and snapped it up. I’d never seen anything so shocking. Mother triple-locked the bathroom door. I’d never even seen her in her panties. My mouth flew open, “Mother, that baby’s eatin’ its Mama!”
Nutsrok 
They are a funny familiy or a crazy one???? haha
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Both!
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That would have shocked me. I didn’t find out that humans did that until reading “The Good Earth”. We produce milk??? I saw my mother with babies, but formula was all they ate. Love your last line…so funny.
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Nobody stumbled on anything at our house!
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This is hilarious. Brings to mind Ma and Pa Kettle movies except Ma never nursed (that I know of).
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That wouldn’t have made the movie.
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:-D :-D :-D
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Hahaha, so good!
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More to come
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Ha Ha! Oh how sweet! :-)
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My mouth drops open in awe–when I read these.
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Uh oh. Is that good or bad?
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I meant that in a good way–as a compliment. I’m also from humble beginnings. There are details from said humble beginnings, I’ve never shared. Mainly because I was an ornery little kid. I’ve written memoirs, left out incriminating details. Even then, some family members were p****d off.
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Ho! Ho! I am assuming most of my gene pool can’t read! Either way. ” ‘Dat Dey Problem!!”
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Well then, do you want to hear about Uncle Albert’s tale and how he broke his wife’s arm when she was trying to get in the bedroom when his new girlfriend was over visiting. I don’t want to upset you?
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Wait a minute–I’m not that sensitive. See my prev. comment, that’s en route. I want to hear about it. I worked with a partner, that walked with a limp, because his wife shot him, when she caught him with another woman, and he had to jump out the window.
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I’m trying to figure out how to tell about the nephew who had the fetish about amputees without getting into too much trouble.
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That’s a tough call. It might need toning down a bit?
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I think about it a lot. It’s going to burst out one day.
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I’ll look for it.
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Ok
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I did it!
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