humor

Louie Figures It Out

One proud day, Louie acquired a bedraggled, old gray mule. The poor beast had obviously been”rode hard and put up wet.” It was tormented by flies, particularly in spots where harness had rubbed. Nonetheless, Louie was enamored of the sad beast pastured in his brother Don’s empty cow lot adjacent to our barn. The lot had gnawed down to the last blade of grass by its previous occupants. The only amenity available to the mule was a half barrel of water. Don and Louie spent some time spraying the mule for flies, which had to be a relief. Don went about his business assuring Louie they’d get old gray some hay tomorrow. A seed was planted.

Old Gray ate all the grass he could reach through the fence. Louie spent the rest of the afternoon pulling grass and delivering it by the handful to the grateful mule. Even Boogereater and Jamie got caught up in the exercise for a while.

About dusk, Daddy came home and scattered out hay for his stock and went on his busy way. Remembering Don’s intentions, Louie opened his cow pen gate and turned Old Gray into Daddy’s feed lot to get at the hay. Delighted at the opportunity to chow down, Old Gray kicked at Daddy’s cows to get them out of his way. Daddy heard the ruckus and came hurrying back, only to find his cows scattered and Old Gray munching happily.

Daddy shouted at Louie.” Get that mule out of here. He’s gonna hurt my cows!” He handed Louie a block of hay to toll the mule out and waved a stick at Old Gray. Reluctantly, Old Gray allowed himself to be led back into Don’s cow lot. Glad to have settled that problem, Daddy secured his own gate and went about his business

Louie was not to be denied that easily. He scooped up a generous portion of Daddy’s hay and tossed it over the fence to Old Gray. The happy mule tore into it with enthusiasm. It had probably been a long time since he’d such a rich meal. Satisfied with his day’s work, Louie went home for his own supper.

The next day when Daddy went out to throw hay to his cows, he found Louie and Old Gray waiting for him. The scattered remains of yesterday’s hay lay about them on the ground. Daddy warned Louie not to let Old Gray in his pasture.

Louie waited patiently for Daddy to put out the hay before climbing over the fence. “Louie, don’t be climbing my fence. You’ll tear it up. What in the hell are you doing?”

Louie scooped up a few blocks of hay and tossed them over the fence to Old Gray. “Old Gray ain’t got no hay. You don’t care Old Gray have hay?”

Daddy knew he wasn’t going to win this round. “Oh hell no, man! That’s what I bought it for.”

Valuable Mule

Farmer Jones had a wife who was a terrible, terrible nag. Every time she would talk to him about anything she would nag him and the only way he could get away was to go do some plowing with his old mule in the field.

Needless to say Farmer Jones spent a lot of time walking up and down the fields with his old mule until one day his wife, in a fit of remorse for her nagging ways decided to surprise her husband by fixing him a nice lunch to eat while he was out plowing in the fields. 

She took the lunch out to the field, and Farmer Jones was very happy and surprised to see her and hoped that she had finally changed her nagging ways. She hadn’t been out there for ten minutes when she began nagging her poor husband again about something.

During her tirade, she dropped the picnic basket behind the mule and the mule gave her a good swift kick in the head. She fell over dead as a door nail from the mule’s strong kick.

A few days later, at the funeral parlor a couple of friends of Farmer Jones noticed that after the service both men and ladies would come up to Farmer Jones and offer their sympathy and condolences. In each case, Farmer Jones would nod his head up and down when ladies would speak, and would shake his head from side to side when a man-friend would come up to comfort him.

After the service was over, those friends of Farmer Jones went up to him and asked him why he nodded his head for the ladies but shook his head for the men.

“Well”, Farmer Jones said, “when the ladies would come up they would say something like… Isn’t that a lovely dress she is wearing? or “Doesn’t she look natural, just like she is asleep?… and I would nod my head yes in agreement. But when the men came up, they all asked me if I wanted to sell that mule”.

Flower Felons

One fine day, Mother and I ran by our favorite garden center while we were running errands, as any right-thinking person would.  I know better than to take Mother with me around flowers. She has no flower morals and always leads me into sin. I was strolling about, measuring the beauty of the flowers against the high cost of divorce, should I purchase any more this month, a miracle occurred.  One of the vendors walked up to me and asked if I liked flowers.  She cut me off before I really got started.  She lived at ——Jones Street.  She’d collected so many flowers she couldn’t take care of them.  They were all in her yard and on her porch.  Go by and get all I wanted.

“Is this a joke?  What if your neighbors see me loading flowers and call the police?”

“Oh, that’s no problem.  Just take a picture of me and show it to them if they say anything, or tell them to call me.  It will be fine.”  That sounded reasonable.  I snapped her picture making the peace sign and sped to _______Jones Street.  The neighbors were on their doorstep watching us, probably wondering why they hadn’t been offered anything.  I showed them the lady’s picture, telling them she said we could have her plants.  They looked suspicious, but didn’t yell at us.  The plants were gorgeous and the pots artistic. She’d even started a couple of nice pineapples that were nearly ripe! Why would anyone go to all that trouble only to give them away? I was in heaven. I had many of them loaded when I noticed we were on ______Patterson Street.  Hurriedly, we put the lovely plants back, explained to the incredulous neighbors, and took off.

We never did find ________Jones Street, but at least we haven’t been arrested, yet.  I’ll bet that woman in the garden center is still laughing.

Setting Louie Straight

Louie lived with his mother, an ancient crone.  It must have been a hard  life for both.  From outward appearances, they seemed very poor.  Their  decrepit home cried out for paint.  Windows needed screens. Old Lady Rick often hung in the crooked doorway shrieking at Louie.  “Louie, get me some taters out o’ the tater house!  Pour a bucket of water on them tomaters!” Louie generally plodded wordlessly to do Mama’s bidding. 

Mama had another son who lived across the street, Don Ricks, the proud father of Boogereater and Jamie, the suspected cigarette thief.  Don plowed and maintained Mama’s poor garden, except for what Louie could be pushed into doing.  The Rolling Store, a converted school bus pulled in next to her house weekly so Louie could fetch the scant  groceries on her list.

Following Boogereater’s gasoline sniffing episode, Daddy was extremely critical of Mother’s handling of the situation.  If Mother had been attending her children instead of trying to sneak a nap, Connie would never have slid off the bed.  Mother should have stood up to to Mrs. Rick and not left her children to take “that kid” to the doctor.  If she’d kept the screen locked like she was supposed to, Louie would never have gotten in to scare her. I guess if she hadn’t put gas in the car, Boogereater wouldn’t have sniffed it.  The bill from the doctor put the icing on the cake. The point of this was, Daddy knew how to handle things.

Thanksgiving was a’coming.  The rooster to have the place of honor at the festivities was shut in a coop fattening.  The accomodations were nothing special but the menu was excellent.  In his neighborhood ramblings, Louie apparently noted the incarcerated rooster, stirring a memory.  Mother noted Louie headed across our yard with the squawking rooster under his arm.  Mother rushed out to rescue her bird.  “Louie, bring back my rooster!  We are fattening him for Thanksgiving!

“I ‘mon eat him.  I ‘mon eat dis rooster.” He replied complacently as he headed home with his new rooster.”

“Louie!  Bring him back!  That’s my rooster!”. This wasn’t the first time Louie got the best of her. 

She was fuming when Daddy got home.  “Louie got my rooster! I saw him cutting across the  front yard with the rooster under his arm.  I hollered at him, but he wouldn’t bring him back!”

“Well, if you’re gonna deal with him, you’re gonna have to be smarter than he is!”This was a generous paraphrase of Daddy’s response.  He’s d never heard of political correctness.  “I’ll go get your damned rooster!”. He strode confidently across the dusty road.

He found Louie out back of the house shutting the rooster in a crate, “Louie, I came to get my rooster.  Don’t be going out on my place no more.”

Louie met the challenge, totally unperturbed.  “I ‘mon eat him.”

Tolerating no nonsense, Daddy glared at him. “I’m taking my rooster.”

“I’ll get me ‘nother one.” Replied Louie steadily, knowing right was on his side.

Bested, Daddy stomped back to his own yard.  Where’s my rooster?” Mother queried.

“Let’im keep the damned thing!” Daddy spouted.  “He ain’t got enough sense to talk to!”

More Annie

We once had a fat, farting, sullen Dalmatian named Annie who liked only two things in this world.  The kid across the street named Greg and anything with wheels:  riding mower, wagon, wheel barrow, cars. We’d often look out and see Annie sitting on the seat of the riding mower.  I do believe if we’d left the keys in she would have cranked it.  She’d even try to sit perched ridiculously on top of the push mower.  If we left a car door open, she’d go flying in, hopping in the driver’s seat, perched behind the wheel.  When she did make a car trip, we had to restrain her to keep her in the back.

Bud acquired a red MG Midget with a rag top.  Can you guess where this is headed?  Annie fell in love with it, thinking it was just her size.  It was in really good condition, except for a dime-sized snag in the rag top just over the driver’s seat.  Bud normally parked it in the garage, but he carelessly left it in the drive one night.  When he came out the next morning, Annie was sitting in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead.  She wouldn’t look to the right or the left. She had wanted to get in that car so badly, she’d climbed on top and fallen through the ragtop.  I heard him shrieking and wondered what catastrophe had taken place.  He tore the door open trying to get at her.  She ripped by him, making a beeline for the protection of the fiberglass igloo doghouse she’d never even stuck a toe in before that day.  Bud kicked at her(I hope the statute of limitations has run out on cruelty to animals)but she made it in before he connected.  He got a huge bruise on his shin from kicking the doghouse.  Though she lived to be fourteen, she never did get to drive.

Chicken Joke

A New York City yuppie moved to the country and bought a piece of land. He went to the local feed and livestock store and talked to the proprietor and asked to buy one hundred chicks.

“That’s a lot of chicks,” commented the proprietor. “I mean business,” the city slicker replied.

A week later the yuppie was back again. “I need another hundred chicks,” he said. “Boy, you are serious about this chicken farming,” the man told him.

“Yeah,” the yuppie replied. “If I can iron out a few problems.” “Problems?” asked the proprietor. “Yeah,” replied the yuppie, “I think I planted that last batch too close tog

Dogs We’ve Known and Loved

We’ve been known and owned by numerous dogs over the years. In our life when we had nothing but poverty, the only thing money can’t buy, we adopted dogs from overjoyed people burdened with a litter of mutt puppies. Those were unfailingly good dogs. Our first was a small dog reminiscent of Snoopy. I had hopes of finding a basset hound pup, so the opportunist who endowed us assured the dog’s father was indeed a basset hound. I don’t believe a basset hound had ever even walked through that neighborhood. It was immaterial anyway since I was accompanied by a five-year-old boy intent on taking a puppy home. A look of love passed between the two sealing the deal. Spotty made every step John made for the next thirteen years. John is past fifty now and can still tear up when we talk about her.

More to come…….

Grandpa J and the Summons

When Grandpa J got up at four-thirty, everybody got up. The women headed for the kitchen and the stove. At Grandpa’s orders, the menfolk headed for the barn to milk the numerous cows, bring the milk in, slop the hogs, and get the tractors and equipment ready for the day’s farm work. By six am, they’d have scraped their boots and cleaned up enough to gather around the large, rough table for breakfast. Grandma stood before the large wood stove , her face flushed with its heat, flipping pancakes and eggs on its many griddles. She served them cups steaming coffee, and pint jars warm rich milk fresh from the cows. The girls and women were kept busy, passing passing pancakes, eggs, bacon and molasses, and pouring refills on coffee and milk. The women didn’t even try to eat before the men got out of the way. It was the first item of business to get the men off to work before they could get the kids off to school and start their day of taking care of the milk, cooking, housework and gardening.

The busy farm couple had eleven kids between nine and twenty-one at this particular time. One brutal, icy day shortly after Christmas, the older boys decided they just weren’t getting up at four-thirty that day. There wouldn’t be any farming in that weather. It wasn’t fit for man nor beast. They cows could just wait. By golly, they were going to stay in bed, for once.

Grandpa had been working on some plow lines before the fire the night before. He called up the stairs to the boys a couple of times, before warning them he’d be up to get them if they didn’t get down in a minute. Feeling confident he couldn’t get them all at once, they lay abed.

Unbeknownst to the old man, just as Grandpa made his way upstairs, plow lines in hand, a deputy from town was about to knock on the front door to deliver a summons to jury duty for Grandpa. Grandpa commenced whaling on the boys with the plow lines, deaf to the pounding on the front door. The boys, most over six feet tall, tumbled down the stairs and burst out the front door, trampling the deputy on their way. Terrified, he joined the boys in flight, being flogged right along with them.

He refused to come back and deliver the summons.

Pig in Mud

Two farmers are in the pub having a beer. Both are skint and in dire need of some money. All they have is one pig each, but luckily one is male and the other female.

So after having a few more beers they hit on a marvellous plan to make money. By mating the two pigs they will have lots of little piggies to sell. 

So the next morning at the crack of the dawn, the farmer with the female pig gets up, loads the pig in a wheel barrow and walks around to his mates farm. He introduces her to the male pig and after much sniffing, serious bonking ensues

“How will I know she’s pregnant”, enquires the first farmer.

“Easily replies the other, when you get up, look at the pig and if she’s rolling in mud, she’s pregnant. If she ‘s eating grass she isn’t so you will have to come back.”

Next morning comes and the farmer dashes to the window And the pig is happily eating grass in the field.

“Damn”, he says going downstairs. He grabs the pig and puts her in the wheel barrow and trundles off to the other farm and more bonking ensues.

This goes on all week with no success. 

So on the Sunday morning the farmer tells the wife to look out the window and tell him what the bloody pig is doing “Is she eating grass ?” he asks 

“No”, says the wife.

“Is she rolling in the mud?” 

“No”, says the wife.

“What the hell she doing then” he cries. 

“She’s sitting in the wheel barrow waiting for you!”