I took this shot a few weeks ago. I had gone out to Swede Lake, a shallow little lake west of the Twin Cities, to try a little bit of bowfishing. I didn’t see any carp–or any other fish, for that matter. But I did get a photo of the moon over the bow of my canoe.
Well, the Old Hillbilly was gone for quite a while, doing a spell sitting mainly still in Stillwater. Anyone who’s from Minnesota will know what that means.
You see, the Old Hillbilly had neglected to abide by certain laws and regulations pertaining to (a) possession of distilling equipment; (b) the manufacture of alcoholic beverages; (c) the sale of alcoholic beverages; (d) the quantity of alcoholic beverages one may have and safely drive on the public roads; ; and (e) taking game (to wit, deer) within the city limits of Minneapolis without a license–or with one, for that matter.
Turned out that I shouldn’t have invited that one neighbor to my venison dinner. Old boy’s a police officer. It was right embarrassing having the cuffs thrown on me right in the middle of dinner, just as I was serving up a plate of Venison au Gens de Colline with a big mug of moonshine.
When I went up in front of the judge, I said, “Oops. I did it again.”
Unfortunately, the judge wasn’t a fan of Britney Spears. Neither is the Old Hillbilly, for that matter.
So they sent the Old Hillbilly away for a spell at the Stillwater Correctional Facility. While I was there, the warden took it into his mind to have someone teach the Old Hillbilly how to read and write properly. He said he’d see about getting me out sooner if I could learn spelling and nonsense like that.
So I took it into my mind to learn to read and write. They made me read books and write essays and take tests. It was even less enjoyable than it was the six or eight times I sat through fourth grade.
Finally, though, I made it. They let me go a bit early and told me not to come back if I knew what was good for me.
So I’m back.
Of course, I’m not brewing up mash these days, and I don’t have a still, and I’m not selling my special Rocket Fuel Mash for $10 per jug from my ’53 GMC flatbed on Saturday and Sunday afternoons out at the Swede Lake boat launch. Nope. Not doing that at all.
I have been bowfishing a bit lately. This photo above shows the Old Hillbilly, aged 59 years and 364 days, holding up a little old buffalo fish I shot down in southeast Missouri back about six weeks ago. At first I thought it was a carp; then I thought it was a drum; and then I figured out it was a smallmouth buffalo.
That’s my PSE Tidal Wave bow with a Zebco 808 bowfishing reel mounted on it.
Thish hyar ole hillbilly aint much fer beleevin in thangs other foaks sez. Foaks’ll tell yuh, “Thish hyar sham pooh will make yore hair shannier and git ewe more wimmen then ewe kin shake a stick at.”
Ain’t no truth to it. Truss me. Bin air; dun at; got the scars on muh skalp tuh pruve it.
But sinst Ah wuz jist a liddle ole hillbilly, thaze one thang Ah had hyeerd tell thet Ah thott wuzz the God’s most honestest truth.
Ah wuz told tam an tam agin they ain’t no way a carp’s gonna take a lerr. An Ah wint an toald foaks the same thang. “Doant aiven thank about it,” Ah’d say. “Aint no carp nohwirr no tam noways evver taken no lerr.”
Well, culler thish hyar ole hillbilly a bratt shade of rong.
Yissterdy aivnin, Ah wuzz out fishin on Lake of the Als. Ah wuzz fishin with a lerr–a Rappluh Shaller Shad. Ah thoad it in cloast tuh the bank, twixt thuh bank an a mess of lily pads–an sumthin hit it.
Ah thot: at air is a natty fan bass.
Ah coulden take no lan up on the rail. Ah’d tern thuh handle, an Ah coulden git it tuh do nothin.
Purdy soon, Ah disaddid hit coulden be no bass. Hit was too big.
Fanly Ah got it up tuh the surfiss soze Ah kud see it. An hit warnt nuthin seppin a big ole carp.
Ah didden wanna brake muh rod ner bust muh lan, speshly coz Ah am rat fond of thuh Rappluh lerr Ah wuz a-yoozin. Soze Ah took muh naidle-nose plars an pluckt thuh lerr outen the ole carp’s mouth.
Ah taiken a cupple of pitchers. Thay aint suh sharp, mainly cozz thuh ole carp wuz a-moovin all thuh tam. But hittle give ewe an eye-deer. Ah wreckin thuh ole thang wood go mebbe ate er ten pownz.
Ah aint suh prowd bowt ketchin me no carp, seppin Ah cott it on a lerr. Thet’s strainj. Iffen Ah hadden had enuff mash tuh drank, Ah matter thott Ah wuz havin me sum deleeryum tree mens. In fack, Ah wuz suh consarned Ah give muhseff a blood test atter Ah let thuh ole carp go. Ah drawed off bout a teaspoon of blood and put a match to it. Shore nuff, hit burnt jiss fan, with a long blue flame. At let me no thet muh blood alkie haul content wuz jiss rat.
Laiter on, Ah ketched me a purdy nass liddle ole bass. Thuh ole carp woodah maid sicks er seven of at air liddle ole bass. Still, Ah lackt thuh ole bass a hoal sat bedder. Carp’s jiss an ugly critter. Kanly remands me of a praicher Ah yooster no, feller yooster come rown an preech tuh me bowt goin tuh church. Mebbe haze dun bin re in car naited.
Hit’s bin a rat smart hwal sinst Ah roat sumthin fer yawl. Hit aint that Ah dun fergot yawl. Hits jist that thish hyar ole hillbilly hez bin a mat bizzy. Moast speshly, Ah spint a hwal polishin bars at the cownty jail. Peers thet sum foaks hyar bouts doant take kanly tuh likker iffen hit aint bottled in bond. Fellers sposed tuh pay tacksis, they tell me. But iffen Ah start payin tacksis, thaze less munny in it fer thish hyar ole hillbilly!
Ennywaze, they let me out. Turns owt sum feller got into the heavy dense locker an drunkt up awl muh mash. Thouten the mash, the persecutor didden have no case agin me. So the juj thoad it out.
Coarse, Ah happen tuh no thet the juj was a-hankrin fer sum of the ole hillbilly’s rokkit fule mash. He hadden had nun fer near bowt a weak. An Ah wreckin thaze a persecutor er sicks hoo wont turn up thare nose at a sip of mash er ten.
Sinst Ah bin owt, Ah aint had no tam harley seppin fer brewin up muh mash. Hits bin suh cold thet foaks need them sum corn likker tuh warm up. Thish hyar poler vortices has bin visiting too regler lack fer moas foaks. Even foaks fum Nor Dakota ain’t got nuthin good tuh say bout it. An them foaks is yoost tuh them sum coald weather.
Ennywaze, Ah bin thankin bowt fishin. Ah aint intristed in no ahs-fishin. Ah got tuh thow me a lan. Iffen Ah aint thowin a lan, hit ain’t fishin. Jis a dabblin a lan down in hole in the ahs: well, hit aint fer thish hyar ole hillbilly.
Ennywaze, at air ole Son of Sharecroppers dun taken a photo of sum of muh lerrs. Ewe bet Ah got fishin on muh mand . . .
Thaze fellers hool tell yuh thet carp aint wurth aitin. Them foaks’ll say, “Em air fish liv in mud, an ay tace lack mud.”
Doant go lissnin tuh nun of at air nonscents. Carp is fan aitin, iffen a feller traits em rat. Hits moast kriticle tuh put jiss a spunefull of thuh ole hillbilly’s speshul rokkit fule mash in yore skillit hwin yuh frah em up. Hittle maik at air carp jist as smuthe as sikk an dee-lishus.
Ennywaze, wun aivnin a fyew daze ago, thuh ole hillbilly got hizzeff a hankrin fer sum carp. Thaze a hoal passle of em down in Laik Calhoon, so Ah got muh cane poal an sum corn fer bate an heddid off down tuh the laik.
Now, hwinnivver thish hyar ole hillbilly goze summers rown bowt, Ah moas jinrully hed thew the naibers’ bakyards. Ah go rown, maikin shore foaks’ back dores iz lockt an at air aint nuthin rown at a burgler mat stail. An iffen Ah dew fand ennythang lack at, Ah taik it back hoam fer saif-kaipin.
So Ah wuz stroallin thew the yards, an Ah spad a liddle pond. Ah stopt an lookt in, an hit wuz chock full of carp–big uns, long az muh arm an thick as thuh hed of a tawk-show hoast.
Now, thay wuz kanly odd lookin. Thay wuz awl kands of cullers. Sum wuz kanly orinj; sum wuz hwat; sum wuz awl mixt up, with orinj an hwat an aivin bloo.
But hit didden madder. They wuz carp, plane as plane kin be.
So Ah bated up muh hook an thoad it in. Purdy soon, Ah had ate er nan of em air funny-lookin carp land up sad me in the yard.
Ah wuz jiss taikin anuther offen the hook hwin thish hyar feller come tairin owt thuh howse, yellin his hed off.
Ah wuz tairbull confyoozed. Ah thot thay warnt nobawddy hoam.
But hyar he wuz, an ole ball-haided feller a-wairin sum plad pants, his faice a-turnin a nass shaid of cranbury.
Jiss hwat in tarnaishun dew ewe thank yore a-dewin? he shouted.
Ahm jist a-fishin, Ah sedd. Ah didden see no no-fishin sans.
Izz air a ekko rown bowt? Ah axed.
Ewe dern fool! Ewe caint fish fer em air fish! Em air fish is coy!
Ah lookt at him an shook muh haid. Coy? Em air fish aint coy. Feller jist has tuh yooze thuh rat bate.
His ahz goggled owt, an he kummincet tuh turnin bloo an en purpull. Awl thuh vanes wuzz standin owt on his haid. Then he fell on thuh grownd an startid twitchin an kanly barkin, lack he wuz a sick dog.
Bowt then hiz waff come a-runnin owt of the howse, a-yellin her hed off. Ah dissaddid then thet hit wuzz gittin a bit lowd. So Ah thoad the carp in muh tow sack, slung it oaver muh shoulder, and slipt away.
Yawl let me no iffen yore intrestid in commin tuh muh fish frah . . .
Yestiddy aivnin Ah drug muh liddle kayak down tuh Lake Calhoon an wint fishin. Hit wuz rat windy on Calhoon hwin Ah kummincet tuh fishin, an Ah warnt ketchin nuthin nohow. So Ah disaddid to paddle up tuh Lake of the Als, hwitch is the nex lake fum Lake Calhoon.
Ah paddled up an startid tuh thowin muh lerrs aroun. Ah wuz moas jinrully yoozin me sum Rappluhs–sum crankbates an a gold minner bate.
Ah fanly ketched me wun liddle ole bass. He warnt but bout twel inchiz long, but he put up kwat a fat.
Ah hed juss let at un go hwin Ah hyeerd thish hyar feller sang out, “Ewe ketchin ennythang?”
Ah lookt up, an they wuz a feller sitting on a fantsy boat. He had him wun of em air lecktrick troallin moaders soze he didden haff tuh paddle nun. They wuz ateteen er twenny fishin poals stackt on the deck an a tackle bocks thuh saz of a steemer trunk.
“Ah aint cot but wun,” Ah riplad, “an hit warnt harley wurth talkin bout.”
“Hwatchoo yoozin fer lerrs?” he axed.
“Manely Rappluhs,” Ah sed. Ah hedd up muh poal an shoad thuh feller muh gold minnerbate Rappluh. “Thish hyar is hwut Ahma yoozin now.”
Thuh feller lookt at it. “Hwah, at air’s a fan lerr. Iffen ewe aint cott yore limit awreddy, Ah wreckin ewe doant no much bout fishin.”
Ah thot a seckund bowt thuh fellers rimark. “Ah wreckin ewe got at rat,” Ah sed. Thin Ah shoad him muh flask. “Say, ewe look lack a feller hoo wooden say no tuh a drop of mash. Zat rat?”
“Mash?” the feller axed.
“Well, ewe kin cawl hit craft hwisky, iffen ewe lack. Ah distilled hit muhseff.”
Thuh feller goggled at thuh flask fer a hwal, thin raiched owt fer it. “Ah spoaz hit woant hurt me nun.”
He unscrood the cap an taiken hizzeff a liddle sip. Corse mah mash doant smell lack much a nuthin, sints hits manely alkiehaul.
Ah wreckin hit past the sniff test, coz thuh feller tipt the flask up an taiken hizzeff a purdy good sip.
Lack Ah figgered, thuh ole boy hadden bin born an bred a-drankin moonshan. Hiz ahs kummincet rat away tuh glaze oaver, lack a kupple of Krispy Kraim doanuts. Thin he startid sladdin kanly slow-lack outen his chare.
Fore he hit the wadder, Ah raiched out an grabbed muh flask. Aint no yoose waistin good mash, an speshly aint no yoose in waistin thuh ole hillbilly’s speshul Rokkit Fule Mash.
He went in, an Ah took me a sip an thot bout it a hwal. Thin Ah disadded thet thuh ole boy wuz rat. Ah doant ratly no nuthin bout fishin. Ah aint good fer ketchin nuthin seppin skeeter bats.
So Ah fisht him owt, thoad him up on his boat, an waived muh flask under hiz noze. He kummincet tuh snortin an coffin, an he shot bowt a gallin a wadder owt of his noaze. But thin he seddled down an startid braithin reggler lack.
Ah disaddid thin tuh go on bowt muh way. An Ah aivin let thuh ole boy kaip muh gold Rappluh minner-bate.
Corse, Ah disaddid thet after wurkin fer tin minnits tuh git the treble hooks out of his chaik. Ah warnt dewin no good at it nowaze.
Hyars a pitcher Ah taken crosst the bow of mah liddle kayak. Hits a Native brand Angler, twelv fait long. Hits a nass liddle fishin boat. The ole hillbilly aint turned oaver not even wunst. Ah had two of muh Veritas rods out that day, long with a Field & Stream rod. Field & Stream is Dick’s store brand. A feller caint see it, but Ah had put a Abu Garcia Revo SX, second generation, on the Field & Stream rod. The reel is a lot bedder than the rod, but the rod is jist fan too.
Hyar’s a pitcher of the ole hillbilly’s liddle ole fishin boat.
Hyars a liddle ole pack the ole hillbilly cot on Lake Calhoun rown bout a munth ago. Hit warnt too big, but hits kanly purdy.
Ahm pickin up fum hwir Ah left off lass tam:
Well, not iggzackly a cain poal, Ah replad. More lack sicks er sevvin cain poals. Hits good tuh hav a spare casen sumthin happins tuh one er tuther.
The feller tuck out a hankerchiff an wapt his foarhaid. Well, Ah deeclair, he sed. Ah aint nevver herd the lack.
Ah no, Ah sed. Moas folks aint as fourthotfull as thish hyar ole hillbilly.
The feller giv a daip ole sah. An ah wreckin ewe aint got no rails on nun of em air cain poals.
Yis sir, Ah sed. Hwut wood a feller dew with a rail on a cain poal?
The feller wapt his foarhaid agin. Well, aint nuthin fer it, he sed. Waze gonna hav tuh git ewe set up with rods an rails boath. Ah caint hav ewe goin out air, gittin skunkt an a-yoozin cain poals. Ah fail a sponsibillty to yuh. Ah jiss caint hav at happin. So lets git goin.
He taken out thish hyar liddle wokkie-tokkie thang an spoak into it. A kupple of fellers come up with foar er fav moar carts. The yung feller started goin thew the als, thowin in furst one rod and thin a nuther.
Thish hyar rods fer pitchin, he sed. Thissuns fer flippin. Thish hyar is yer crankbait rod. Hyars ewe a jerkbait rod. Hyars one fer spinnerbaits. Hyars one fer spinners. Thish hyar rod is maid jiss fer castin yer holler frogs an mass an sichlack. Thissun’ll dew fer yer topwadders—yer propbaits an yer chuggers an yer poppers an yer Spooks an sechlack. Thissun’s good fer small swimbaits. Thissun’s awl rat fer big swimbaits. Hyar’s one fer yer Carlanna rigs. Hyar’s one fer yer Texuss rigs. Hyars one fer yer Alleybammer rigs. Hyar’s a croppy rod. Hyar’s a panfish rod. Hyar’s a—
Jiss hoal on, Ah sed. Ewe got me rods fer Carlanna, Texuss, an Alleybammer. Aint yawl got nun fer Minisoda?
The feller giv a good laff. Aint no Minisoda rig thet Ah evver hyeerd tell uv, he sed. But they is sum fish hyar thet ewe naid the rat rods fer. So lets thow in a few musky rods, an a kupple of rods fer northurn pack, an sum wallah rods. Ewe naid ewe sum rods fer trollin, an sum fer ahs fishin, an sum fer catfishin. Coarse yule naid ewe sum flah rods—lets make it aisy an say two fer evver lan wait fum two thew nan, with one set up fer drah flahs an tuther set up fer wet flahs. Aint no use in gittin no moar complikaitid then that.
He thoad in a kupple duzzin moar rods. Thin he kummincet tuh thowin in rails. Wail have tuh have one fer aich rod, he sed, an thin yule want ewe sum spairs, casen one brakes down. An they aint no yooce bahin nun of thim chaip ones. Ah doant want tuh say ewe back in hyar next waik, a-tellin me how ewe dun lost a wreckered musky cozzen Ah soad ewe a chaip rail. So less start off with ewe a kupple of thezhe hyar Shimano Calcuttas, an a few Daiwa Saltigas, an sum Aboo Garseeya Revvo Toro Winchis, an thish hyar Daiwa Pixy fer yer finesse fishin, an sum Shimano Curados, an a Daiwa Staze er thray, an fer flah rails yule naid ewe sum Abels an sum Tahbors an . . .
He wint on lack thish fer sum tam. Thin he startin tuh showin me lan. Lookie hyar at thish hyar lan, he sed. Hits the fannest lan evver maid. Hits a thousan-poun tess, hits thinnern a hyoomin hare, an hits invizzibull in the wadder.
Ah lookt at it. Hits purdy much invizzibull in the air, too, Ah sed. Ewe shore thaze sumthin on at air spool?
Hits matty hard tuh say, the feller sed. But jiss fail it. Hits fannern ennythang.
I fett roun on the spool a hwal, an fanly Ah sed, Hit jiss fails lack the spool. Ewe jiss hab so lootly shore thaze lan on air?
Hit lays flattern anythang, he sed. Hits trooly a wunder. Thaze twell pattints on it. Caint nuthin hold a candle to it.
Jist how is a feller spozed tuh tah at air lan? Ah axed.
Hit makes a fan not, he sed. Hits aisy tuh tah. Hit aint lack yore braid er yore floorokarbin. Coarse, yule naid sum of thim too, as well as yer ole mono fillment.
Hwa dew Ah naid awl em sorts of lans?
Diffurnt cundishuns cawls fer diffurnt lans. Prezentayshun, prezentayshun, prezentayshun. Hits awl in the prezentayshun.
Well, Ah wreckin yood bess set me up with awl hwut Ah naid.
He kummincet tuh thowin in spools of lan. Thin he thowed in laider of awl sorts, an snap swivvils, an swivvils, an waits maid out of tattanyum, hwich he sed wuz hevviern led, an flotes an baids an stoppers an tackle boxes an fishin vests an furst one thang an thin tin moar.
Fanly he wapt his haid agin, an he kummincet tuh goin thew the carts, lookin evverthang over. Thin he cawlt up a nuther feller on the wokkie-tokkie.
Thish hyar feller wuz oalder. His ahs were boath blew, seppin one wuz blewern tuther, an shannyer, an hit didden moove roun nun. His hare wuz jist a marvel. He had a part down rat roun his earloab, an he hed traned up thray er fore stranz of hare fum thair, an haid rapt em roun his haid so careful lack a feller jist had tadmarr how much of his skapp wuz cuvverd up. Ah thot bout menshinnin it to him, but he jiss doav rat in an went thew awl the carts, dubble-checkin evverthang.
Fanly, he stopt an lookt at the yung feller with his less shanny ah .
The yung feller sed, Ah didden miss nuthin, did Ah?
The oalder feller shook his haid rat careful, a-maikin shore his hare didden go slip-sladdin away. Ahm supprazzed, he sed. Ewe got hit jist bout awl rat, but lookie hyar at thezhe hyar baitcastin rails.
Thuh feller lookt at the carts with the baitcastin rails in em. Them look fan tuh me, he sed. Aint nuthin in thair no chaipern Revo STX.
Thet aint the thang, the older feller sed. Jiss ewe take a nuther look.
The yung feller lookt agin. Well, mah lan, he sed. Thems awl rat-hand ruhtrayv.
Thets rat, the older feller sed. Ewer gonna send him outta hyar thouten a sangle leff-hand ruhtrayv.
The yunger fellers shoalders droopt lack a pan tray cuvverd with snow. Ah am jiss so terrbull sorry, he sed. Ah will ficks at up rat now.
Hold on a minnit, Ah sed. Jist hwa duz a feller naid both rat-hand an leff-hand ruhtray rails?
The two feller lookt at aich uther, thin thay lookt at me, an thin thay lookt back at aich other. Fanly the yungern sed, Well, hit maiks jist a world of diffurnce in how the lerrs werk.
Thets rat, the older feller chammed in. Sumtams a feller naids a leff-hand ruhtrayv. Caint nuthin be dun bout it, lessen the feller doant care nun bout catchin no fish.
Well, Ah sed. Ah wreckin Ahd lack tuh ketch me sum leff-handid fish as well as rat-handid fish. So ficks me up with sum moar rails.
The yung feller startid tuh go, but Ah thoad out muh hand. But wait jist a minnit. Mebbe ewe ott tuh set me up with sum leff-handid lan, an sum leff-handid hooks, an sum leff-handid rods hwalst yore at it.
The yung feller stopt lack haid run up ginst a lettric fence. His ahs got wad, an his lips kummincet tuh twitchin. But thin the ole feller let out a laff. Now aint thet a goodun! he croad. He lafft harder, slappin his naze an lookin roun fer an oddyence fer us awl. Ewe bout had me goin, he sed. Ah thott fer bout a minnit thare thet ewe didden no no beddern tuh axe fer leff-handid lan an sich-lack. He heeved a sah er two, thin he wapt his arm crosst his mouth an sed tuh the yung feller, Yawl go off an git him sum rat-handid baitcastin rails. An lemme no iffen ewe run crost enny rat-handid lan. An thin he kummincet tuh laffin agin.
After a hwal, thay had me a nuther mess of rails. Thin thay lookt it oaver agin, an they thoad in a few moar lans an laiders an sich lack. Thin the ole feller turnt tuh me an sed, Well, this aint much. But it shood be a fare start. Thin ewe kin come back an let us no hwat else ewe naid.
Well, Ah sed, Ah kin tell ewe one thang rat now.
The ole one’s haid drodd back lack a turdle thet hed seed a feller with a hoe a-commin after it. Hwuts thet? he axed.
Well, Ah came in hyar tuh get me sum bug spray. Thezhe hyar skeeters up hyar’ll eat up a feller sumthin fairce. Ah want yawl tuh fix me up with yore fannest bug spray.
Yawl doant naid no bug spray, the yungun sed. Hwutchawl naid is thish hyar deevass.
He shoad me thish hyarl liddle plasstick thang. He sed it held sum bug spray an a liddle fan. Hwin ewe tern this liddle switch, he sed, hit terns on thish hyar liddle fan, the bug spray wafts roun ewe in a gennle mist. Ittle shore nuff keep them skeeters way fum yuh thouten ewe havin tuh go sprayin nuthin on yuh an rurin yer fan close.
Ah sed, Well, thet sounz lack the thang. Jiss thow bout a hunnert of them in a cart fer me.
The yung feller jumpt tuh dew it, an purdy soon Ah had me a kupple of carts of lecktric-pard bug spray.
Thin thay taken the cairvan down tuh the checkout, an they got a flait of checkers tuh start rangin up evverthang.
Hwalst thay wuz a-rangin up evverthang, they taken me into the loan offiss an got me wurkin on a new morgij fer muh house. Bah the tam we had it awl figgered out, thay had the yung feller an the ole feller an the loan offsser an the stoar mannijer an the sisstint stoar mannijer an a kupple of underratters in thish hyar liddle confrince room with me.
Fanly Ah fetched a pinsill out of muh oaverhauls an startid tuh san the loan dokkimints. The stoar mannijer stopt me an handid me his pin. Hyar, he sed. Yooze thissun. Hits a Mont Blonk.
I taken up the pin, an he shoad me how to git it tuh rat. Ah put muh hand down tuh san, an thin Ah taken it up. Ewe no, Ah sed, back hwurr Ah come fum, down roun Rootwad Township, Missouri, hwin folks gits tuhgither on a dail lack thissun, thail moas jinrilly have a drank foar sannin ennythang.
Well, Ah jiss doant no, sed the mannijer, hit beein bidniss arrs an awl.
Ah lade down the pin an lookt at him. An hyar Ah thot Ah wuz mungst frends, Ah sed. Ah wuz countin on yawl tuh look after an ole hillbilly lack Ah wuz yore frend. Ah wreckin Ah wuz rong.
Now, doant go sayin thet, sed the mannijer. Weze awl frends hyar.
Well, iffen weze frends, then hit aint bidniss arrs. Hits tam fer us tuh be frendly lack. An frends’ll take a drank togither, doant madder nun hwat the clock sez.
Ah aint nevver thot bout it that way, the mannijer sed. Ah wreckin aint no harm in taken a drank with a frend. Hits fav clock sumhwirs ennywaze. He cawlt oaver tuh the sissint mannijer. Ah thank we got us a boddle of wan roun hyar. Er mebbe ewe cood aiven russle us up sum shampain.
Ah put muh hand out tuh the sisstint mannijer. Aint no yooce in ewe stirrn yer stumps, Ah sed. Ah brot muh own fan-drankin mash.
Ah pult a jug outen muh oaverhauls, an they awl loud how thaid be glad tuh have a drank with me. Furst thay trad tuh pore it into sum ole plasstick glassiz, but thay didden wurk at awl. The mash jiss wint rat thew em. But thin thay foun sum coffee cups, an we awl figgered thaid wurk jiss fan.
So Ah pored us dranks awl roun, toppin up thair cups purdy good. Thin Ah sed, Hyars mud in yer ah, an Ah thoad muh mash down muh thoat.
The uthers awl trad tuh foller soot. But hit didden tern out so well. A kupple of em jist keelt oaver rat away. The yung feller fell onto the flore an startid in tuh hwimprin an crahin an suckin his thumm. The ole fellers hare untwistid fum offen his skap, an hiz glass ah bload out of his haid an roalt crost the table tuh me. Ah pickt it up an slipped it in muh pokkit. A glass ah can come in rat handy sumtams.
The sisstin mannijer stood up, sed Scyooze me, an stumbled oaver to a clozzit in the corner. He wint in an clozed the dore behand him. Ah cood hyar him bumpin ginst the walls an sichlack, still sayin Scyooze me, scyooze me.
The stoar mannijer wuz jiss sittin thar, his ahs lookin diffurnt dreckshuns, his hans a-kanly scrabblin on the table lack liddle crabs, an his mouth workin lack he had peanut budder stuck tuh the roof of it.
Ah taken up the loan dokkimints agin an lookt thew em. Ah maid bout foar er fav manner awlterayshuns. Thin Ah nisshuld the awlterayshuns, an Ah put the Mont Blonk pin back in the stoar mannijers hand an got his nisshuls on the awlterayshuns.
Thin Ah taken the Mont Blonk pin an stuck it in muh bib oaverhauls an wint back out tuh the checkers. Ah shoad em the loan dokkiments, an thay scrambled roun till they could git me awl the munny fer the cash back on the loan.
Hwalst thay wuz loadin up the flatbed, Ah stept back into the confrince room. Hit wuz purdy much lack hit had bin. Ah let the sisstint mannijer out of the clozzit, an he staggerd oaver into a corner an kummincet tuh bumpin roun in it, sayin, Scyooze me. Scyooze me.
Ah wint oaver tuh the mannijer an prad one of his hands offen the table. He hed dun skracht bout a kwarter inch into the wood. Ah shaken his hands an toal him how much Ah preeshyaited dewin bidniss with him. He lookt at me an kanly gabbled sumthin. Hwin he oapend his mouth reel wad, Ah cood see thet the mash had melted his fawce taith. Thay wuz jiss lack long strands of taffy in his mouth, an he jiss kep wurkin em roun.
Ah droav off thin. Hit taken me upperds of an arr tuh unload the flatbed awl bah muhseff. Now Ah got fishin kwipmint stoard awl oaver the house. Aint a room aint got a duzzin rods an sum tackle boxes an sichlack in it.
Now Ah no hwat yawl is thankin. Yore a-thankin, Hillbilly, ewe jiss spent ewe a mess of munny on at air fishin kwipmint, an ewe doant ratly no nothin bout fishin with nuthin seppin a cain poal.
An Ah caint disagray with yawl. Hit wuz hickspinsive. But Ah got a hunnert an fifty yairs tuh pay it awl off, an muh furst paymint doant come dew till Ahm two hunnert yairs ole. Ah wreckin a kin save enuff bah thin tuh pay a bit on it.
In the maintam, Ahma ficksin tuh ketch me sum fish . . .