Hit Awl Duppinds on the Bate a Feller Yoozes

Not at All Coy

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.

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 . . .

Naibers

Ah tole yall hwut happind with the ole hillbilly an the skeeters down at Lake Calhoon. Well, wunst Ah hed givven up on fishin, the ole hillbilly staggerd back up the rode tuh muh howse, figgerin thet iffen Ah wuz a ottomobeel I’d be rown bout fore pants er so low of ole on thuh dipstik. Firse thangs bein nacherl-waz first, Ah drankt up rown bowt six pants of muh speshul rokkit fule mash, hwich the ole hillbilly keeps a speshul barl of tucked awaze. Ah figgerd thet six pants otter bowt fill me back up an give me a liddle leeways, casen Ah hed sprung a lake fum the skeeters a-batten on me.

Wunst Ah wuz topt off, Ah rekkind Ah wud bile off anuther gallen er fore of muh mash. Soze Ah lit me a far under muh still an kummincet tuh bilin.

Bowt then a feller moseyed down the path besads muh howse. He wuz awl cleand up sumpthin fierce, an his hare wuz awl combed an shanny lack, an he wuz a-warin a pank shirt an sum blew britches. Ah figgerd he hadden nevver wore no overhauls an probly didden even have nun in his war drobe.

Ennyways, thish hyar feller moseyed up an he sez, Ah rekkin ewes the noo naiber hyar bouts.

Ah tuk a pull on muh jug an Ah sez, Ah rekkin so, lessen thaze summun nooer.

Aint nun thet Ah noe nuthin bowt, sez thuh feller. Thin thish hyar feller kumminces to nozin bowt, an purt sune he pix up one of muh cain poals and ahz it a hwal kinely seryus lack.

Thet aint fer sail, Ah sez. Hits muh speshul fishin poal.

Ah aint a wantin tuh bah it, the feller shot back. Ah wuz jist a-thankin, tho, thet thish hyar cain poal lucks rat smart lack sum bam boo thet Ah had in muh yard. Aint so mutch of it now as I had afoar. Ahm a-thankin mebbe sum feller cut down sum of muh bam boo and maid it into fishin poals.

Ah kinely lookt at the feller an axed him, Ewe cyoozin me of stailin yore bam boo?

Ah aint cyoozin ewe of nuthin, the feller sed. Ahm jist maikin a obser vayshun.

Ah skratcht muh haid. Ah doant no nuthin bowt no obser vayshun, nor nuthin bowt no vayshuns at awl. But seein as yer muh naiber, Ah rekkin Ah ott tuh awffer ewe a drank.

Ah pored sum mash intuh an ole Bama jelly jar an handid it tuh the feller. He kinely giv it a goggly look, kinely lack he wuz one of em air wall-ahed fish thet thay hev got up hyar.

Go ahaid an drank it, Ah sed. Hits gud fer hwat ails yuh. Ennywaze hits moasly wadder.

So the feller tuk him a sip, an then his faice terned panker than his shirt, an his haid kinely swelt up bowt fore er fav tams hits yoozhul saz, an thin he felt down on the groun. He lade thar on his sad an kummincet tuh kikkin rown in liddle sirkles an barkin lack a dog thet hez dun et a week-old skunk offen thuh rode an thin desadded that warnt the best noshun thet evver run thew his haid.

Ah let the feller bark an kikk a hwal, thin Ah hault him up an give him a nuther nip of muh mash. He wint awl stiff lack, jist lack a bored, an his faice ternt the purdiest blew culler the ole hillbilly hez ever sane.

Him beein all stiff lack, ewe wood thank hade a bin hard to kerry, but hit warnt so bad. I jist thoad him oaver muh shoalder an hawlt him back oaver tuh his howse. His waff seed me yankin him up thuh steps, an she bussled owt an startid a-bawlin an askin, Hwut in the wurl ivver happint? Oh lordy lordy.

Yore huzbind got hizzeff a drankin problim, Ah said. Feller jist caint hoald his likker.

But she jist kepp a-bawlin an cawlin lordy lordy, so the ole hillbilly kinely sloped away.