Willy Eugenes Pet Bull by Gary Benton
article copyright

“Ya know, there just ain’t much a redneck doesn’t know something about!” My Uncle Andy said as he picked up his coffee cup and took a good swig of the thick hot liquid.

We were all seated at the big booth in Uncle Andy’s restaurant having breakfast. The time was early, or way before the rooster crows, and along with breakfast we were having us a serious discussion. We always stopped to eat at Uncle Andy’s in the early mornings before we went hunting or fishing. It was located in a small hole in the wall next to the bus stop, which had closed back in 1968.

This morning the group was made up of Bubba, William Robert (Billy Bob), Uncle Floyd, T-Bone, and me. Of course, as soon as we were seated, Uncle Andy joined us at the table.

I am constantly surprised that anyone can drink Andy’s coffee. He completely amazes me when he gulps it the way he does, since its thick enough to tar paper a roof with. He claims it was his time in the Navy that taught him to make good coffee. He further states that after drinking his coffee a person develops a deep appreciation for only the best. Well, I can tell you for sure, that much I can agree with. Seems right after I tasted his coffee, I developed a deep appreciation for good coffee as well and any coffee is better than Andy’s! But, the man can cook!

“Well, I ain’t so shore I agree with ya one hun’ert percent on that Andy, but ya always been a bit on the dumb side. Heck far, most the time you don’t know come heah from fetch.” T-Bone said as he took a big bite of biscuit and gravy. The bite was so big it made his right cheek bulge like a chipmunk storing food for the winter as he chewed. He and Andy were about the same age and size, which means old and fat.

“Bullchips! You know and I know, that we both know, that everyone else knows, that all of us know, just what we know. And, YOU know it! You know what I mean!” Andy continued, but he had changed from sippin’ coffee to eating his grits.

“Uncle Andy? Uncle Andy? Listen to me here. I ain’t got no idea what in the tar-nation you are talkin’ about. What is all this, you know and they know garbage? You sound like a hungry Yankee used car salesman. You’re makin’ no sense to this country boy at all. You’re talkin’ just to hear yourself talk.” William Robert spoke as he leaned forward and waved a gravy-coated spoon under my Uncle Andy’s chin.

For a few minutes nothing was said at all. You could feel the tension in the air and we all knew my uncle was mad. Andy, obviously upset at first because we didn’t agree with his views, finally realized we didn’t even know what his views were. He had not done a very good job of conveying his thoughts, nor his strong opinions. So, he shoveled the grits in–quickly. I watched him eat two bowls of them.

I hated watching Andy eat grits. See, he put syrup on them, butter, ketchup, and then ate them with a spoon! AND, from a BOWL! Way I figured it; he should have been arrested for improper ingestion of the national Southern breakfast dish. It’s sort of a capital crime against Southern culture. And all of you rednecks know what I’m talkin’ about! Ya just don’t eat grits with a spoon and for sure not out of a bowl.

Finally after a few very long minutes Bubba stood up and yelled, “Nurse! We need some coffee over heah!” Every head in the place turned to look at this loud mouth redneck dressed in bibs, flannel shirt, boots, and ball cap. Yep, you guessed it; he looked like all the rest of us. Be hard to pick him out in a police line up if we were with him. Well, maybe not that difficult since he is a fairly big boy. As soon as Nadine Lucille turned and started toward our table Bubba sat back down.

Page : 1 2 3 - view entire post