Bare Behind and a Shotgun
I came across this silly story worthy of a retelling:
Where the truth stops and the lies begin is just not up for question.
Early 1900s, Tumblin’ Creek, Tennessee
“Somethin’s pesterin’ of the chickens.”
Now my Aunt Lucinda said,
And ‘fore you know it Uncle Jackson was uh-getting out bed.
Grabbed his double-barreled shotgun;
Left his britches far behind;
He had on his little night shirt
That was of the shortie kind.
I can see him easin’ out there;
He can do no more than creep,
For the rocks and sticks and pebbles
Cut into his tender feet.
Uncle Jack was all bent over
Just uh-peerin’ for the ‘coon,
With his bare behind uh-shinin’
Like a great big harvest moon.
There’s Aunt Cindy in her nightgown,
Way in front of that big cur,
When old Lucy ran on past her,
Skeered the stuffin’ outa her.
“Look out, Jackson! Theres the varmint!”
But he didn’t seem to mind
‘Til the cold nose of old Lucy
Tetched him on his bare behind.
Uncle Jackson jumped and hollered:
“Lordy, get the white corn juice;
I’ve been bit and I’m uh-dyin’,”
Then he turned both barrels loose.
When the feathers quit uh-flyin’,
And the smoke had settled down,
There were six hens and a rooster
Lyin’ dead upon the ground.
I can see my Aunt Lucinda
Shake her head and hear her say:
“We got chickens for our dumplin’s,
But the varmit got away.”
Now, Uncle Jack is gittin’ feeble
But if you should want to fight—
Ask him ‘bout that bunch of chickens
That he shot one summer’s night.
By “Pek” Gunn
I smiled the whole time I read “Pek” Gunn’s Tumblin’ Creek Tales. Something settled in me. I can tell the author enjoyed his work as much as my family loves storytelling around a campfire.
That’s how I want to write.
“I’ve got another story and this ones true.” -Grandpa Jerry Halverson