Friday, July 21, 2006
If you don't need it, give it back.
Hey! Today we have a guest post from an old friend of mine, HeidelHill Pat. We worked together at the Brown Frown over twenty years ago. I think this little ditty harkens back to 1986. Pat lived out Berne-Knox area. Those of you not from the Albany, NY area, that is our closest, but not only, backwoods enclave. Pat was a good guy and good to work with, but we tried hard not to piss him off. He was as strong as an ox and that twitchy eye told everyone that knew him, Pat was a fuggin' powderkeg. Enjoy and I hope to be back later today.
So anyways, you all know I live out in the Heidelbergs. God's country. T'aint but ten miles or more between neighbors.
I'm driving to work one day when I spot Stacks and one of his cooter dogs out for a walk. I figure they're out doing some "out of season" turkey farming since Stacks has got his shotgun with him.
Um, Smith and Wesson, 20 gauge.
Stacks got his name by lifting hay bales. Done ran out of stacks when showing his cousins how many he could lift. He is a big fella. Anyways thats got nothing to do with the story.
I pull over to talk to Stacks since I haven't seen him in awhile.
"Hey Stacks, where you been hiding yourself?"
"Hey ya Pat. I ain't been hiding."
Stacks was a nice guy, just pretty literal.
"You two doing a little hunting?"
"Now you know Pat, I can't go hunting since the state took my license away." Stacks says with a wink. "I'm not going anyways. Got to run an errand."
"Yeah," I say, "can I give you and the dog a lift somewhere?"
"Nah. My errand is for the dog. You know I got too many dogs at home, I was just about to give this dog back."
"Really Stacks, where the hell you going? That dog don't belong to me and I am the only one that lives around here."
Stacks looks me in the eye, spits, then says "I'm giving him back to the Lord."
Now you know, the Humane Society has nothing on Stacks.
Thanks for listening. ¶ 7:06 AM
So anyways, you all know I live out in the Heidelbergs. God's country. T'aint but ten miles or more between neighbors.
I'm driving to work one day when I spot Stacks and one of his cooter dogs out for a walk. I figure they're out doing some "out of season" turkey farming since Stacks has got his shotgun with him.
Um, Smith and Wesson, 20 gauge.
Stacks got his name by lifting hay bales. Done ran out of stacks when showing his cousins how many he could lift. He is a big fella. Anyways thats got nothing to do with the story.
I pull over to talk to Stacks since I haven't seen him in awhile.
"Hey Stacks, where you been hiding yourself?"
"Hey ya Pat. I ain't been hiding."
Stacks was a nice guy, just pretty literal.
"You two doing a little hunting?"
"Now you know Pat, I can't go hunting since the state took my license away." Stacks says with a wink. "I'm not going anyways. Got to run an errand."
"Yeah," I say, "can I give you and the dog a lift somewhere?"
"Nah. My errand is for the dog. You know I got too many dogs at home, I was just about to give this dog back."
"Really Stacks, where the hell you going? That dog don't belong to me and I am the only one that lives around here."
Stacks looks me in the eye, spits, then says "I'm giving him back to the Lord."
Now you know, the Humane Society has nothing on Stacks.
Thanks for listening. ¶ 7:06 AM
