Highway to Hell

“Well, I got me a birth certificates that says I am real. ‘Course, don’t pay no ‘tention to who it says _________ is my daddy, ‘cause that part is an error, ya know. One of them typo-thang-of-a-bobs,” Bubba said as he felt himself starting to enjoy the conversation a bit now.

“Look, how do I get to the highway? I just need to get back on the road. Will you help me or not?” The man spoke in a pleading voice, just before his head disappeared back into the cab of the truck as Taterhead, the beagle, jumped up on the door.

“Okay, jess cool down a bit son. Dang, we don’t do thangs so fast heah in the south. But, since you ain’t from ‘round heah, I’ll give y’all a break, I’ll tell ya the way I would go to the highway You got a pencil and some paper in yer truck?” Bubba asked and then spat a stream of thick brown tobacco juice onto the ground near his feet, barely missing Taterhead, but not missing the side of the man’s truck door. Well, thought Bubba, less ways he didn’t see it hit the door.

“Yep, got a pen and paper right here and ready to copy,” the man said as he turned back to face Bubba.

“Ok. Now, ya go down this here road fer a fair piece. Not as far as old lady Cisco’s place, or ya gone too far, and then ya turn left. You cain’t miss it, cause it is where Burrhead kilt that monster buck back in ’68. You know, there’s that big open field. Go straight fer another mile or three until you come to where the old Packizer place used to be, only it ain’t there no more. So, don’t count on seein’ the remains. Right there ya turn right, immediately when you see where the lightning struck that old post oak tree back in ‘83. Then, go past old man Johnson’s place, past Millers feed store and night gowns, and at the next intersection you will see the post office, Andy’s café and one of them fast eatin’ burger places. Feller, you look kind corn-fused, you a-gettin’ all of this down?”

Suddenly there was a whirling sound and the window to the truck closed. Since it was tinted Bubba could not see in. He heard the engine start, saw the truck back up, and watched as it disappeared down the drive way and turn. It turned the wrong way of course.

Bubba was still chuckling to himself when Maude walked up beside him with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled at Bubba and asked, “What was ya doin’ out heah talkin’ to them folks Bubba, they ain’t from ‘round heah.”

“They was lost Maude and I was a-doin’ the right thang by helping them,” Bubba said as he took the hot drink from Maude’s hand and took a long gulp.

“That’s mah babydoll. You’re always helpin’ other folks Bubba. That is one reason I love ya so dang much. What ya say we take some fried chicken, tater salad, and some coffee and go do us some catfishin’ fer a spell.” Maude said as he put her arm around Bubba’s large waist and leaned her head on his shoulder.

As Bubba and Maude headed back into the mobile home to pack up for the fishing trip, he wondered why the man had been so rude as to leave without saying so much as thank you. After all, had he not given him exactly the direction to the highway he would have taken? Life, sure is strange.

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