Lake of the Als

SAMSUNG CSC

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. 

 

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Hits fishin tam agin

Hit wuz a rat long winner hyar in Miniapples. Hit snoad an snoad an snoad. Hit warnt jist two offal cold. Thish hyar ole hillbilly didden haff tuh ware but too pare of long jons unnernaith his bib overhauls. Corse, Ah kaip muhseff purdy well warmd up hinfernally threw drankin muh speshul rokkit fule mash. Hwin its rat cold, Ah jist up muh daily rashin of mash fum fore kwarts tuh fav er ate. Hwin Ah git rat well topt off, Ah melt thuh snow roun me as Ah walk. 

Ennywaze, hits got tuh hware Ah kin go a-fishin agin. Ah dun bin owt wunst er twast, but Ah aint cott nuthin yit. Ah wreckin Ah’ll hav tuh git me sum wurms er minners.

Moast aivnins Ah sit owt on muh back poarch. Thuh skeeters is gittin kanly thick, soze Ah bin smoakin muh pap tuh drav em off.

Jist a liddle hint: hwin ewe go tuh lat up yore pap, maik shore yore jug of mash is capt off. I dun bload up thray er fore thet way . . .

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The ole hillbilly on brangin up yore young uns

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Dear Old Hillbilly,

My wife and I are expecting our first child. At the baby shower, one of our friends gave us a copy of your book Brangin Up Yore Young Uns the Hillbilly Way. I assume that the gift was made as a joke. We began reading the book, our faces growing more aghast with each page. For a time we tried to explain the book itself as nothing more than an ill-considered joke, a spoof on child-rearing manuals. We could accept that explanation–despite the absolute lack of humor in your apparently unedited text–so long as we were reading chapters with titles such as  “Yore Young Un’s Furst Coon Hound,” “Traytin Rangwurms with Mash,” “Clainin Dapper Pales with Mash,” and “Dravvin Way Em Air Noazy Chal Pertecktive Surviss Foaks with Yore Twel-Gaij.”

But then we read the chapter “Innerdoosin Yore Young Un tuh Mash,” including the advice to “kaip the young un’s mama well drunkt up soze her brest mikk is chawk full of alkiehaul. Thaddle giv thuh young un a nacherl taist fer mash.” Just what in the world were you thinking?

Please note that we are not ourselves unintelligent. We each hold advanced degrees; we are both highly paid professionals; and, as something that you can perhaps understand, we own three Audis. Thus, our comments deserve some weight.

Sincerely,

Furious

Dear Oaners of Thray Outties,

Ah am kunfyoozed. Duz aich wun uv yawl hav thray bellybuttins, or dew yawl hav thray bellybuttins twain yuh? Iffen sew, iz air wun of ewe thets got too bellybuttins, an wun thet aint got but one?  Or dew yawl aich hav wun thets kanly fixt on yuh, an then thaze anuther thet yawl swap aroun? An dew yawl hav oanly audis, or dew yawl also hav innies?

Ah doant main tuh be rood, but thish hyar ole hillbilly aint nevver herd sich lack in awl muh laff.

Ennyway, let me antser yore kwisschun. Ah wuz a trahin’ tuh shed sum lat on a vext subjickt. Thaze sum foaks thaddle jiss hand a young un a boddle of mash strate offen thuh still thouten furst gittin um yoost tuh sumthin a liddle weeker. Coarse, thaze menny thaddle put a liddle mash in thuh boddle, hwich is a kander an jentler way.

But thaze sum thet doant hold with givvin a young un mash til thuh chall iz as much as twel er thurtain yares old. Jiss lay yore ahz on the pitcher Ah am attachin. “NOT FOR BABIES”? Well, mebbee Uncle Cooter’s mash aint fit fer nobawdy nohwair. Ah wreckin that aint tripple distilled, lack thuh ole hillbilly’s Speshul Rokkit Fule Mash. 

Ennywaze, they iz jist a passle of diffurnt ahdeeyers rown bout thish hyar isshoo. An Ah wreckin muh advass is thuh best: iffen thuh mamas drunkt up awl thuh tam, thuh young un’ll git a nacherl taist fer mash. Purt soon, thuh liddle un’ll be a toddlin roun, draggin his er her oan jug an stoppin fer thuh kaizhnull sip, jiss lack thuh chal’s pappy. 

An at air is the troo hillbilly way.

Hits Fanly Sprang Rounabouts Hyar

This ole hillbilly aint poastid nuthin fer kwat sum tam. I had me a run in er thray with the revnooers, an hit got me plum tuckered out. Hit was a rat hard choar a-diggin hoals in the froazen groun. Ah taiken tuh stackin ’em up lack farwood. Thay didden wurk suh well, tho. Em air revnooers aint yoozhely got no meat on air boans, mutch less fat fer thuh far. Hit taiks moar kindlin tuh git em lit then hits wurth. Ah dun bin thoo a kupple duzzen of em, an Ah aint figgered out no yooce fer em yet.

But sprang has dun sprung. The fellers iz out in air liddle goff-bawl pickers, a-harvistin goff bawls in thuh aivnins hwin thuh sun’s goin down. Lake Calhoun hez dun fanly thawed. Ah hev taiken the flatbed down tuh the sportin goods stoars fav er tin moar tams, an Ah got me nuff rods an rails an lerrs of awl taps. Ah wreckin Ah cood outfit a battalyin tuh go a-fishin.

Well, muh mash is on the bile. Ah prommis tuh rat moar laider.

Acrosst the bow of the hillbillys boat

Acrrosst the bow of the hillbillys boat

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.

Fishin reels

Fishin reels

Hyars a pitcher of the reels thets on the rods in the one pitcher. The kanly gray one is a Daiwa Saltist LW20H. Hit’s a saltwadder reel, but hit works fan fer heavy baits. The gold reel is a Tica Caiman CJ150R. Ah bot it offen eBay. Hits a awful nass reel. The last is an Okuma Citrix. Hits another nass reel. In fack, them is awl good reels.

Fishin quipmint

Fishin quipmint

Hyars a pitcher of sum of muh rods. Thay is two Abu Garcia Veritas rods an one Musky Innovations rod. The big reel is a Daiwa Saltist LW20H. The gold reel is a Tica Caiman CJ150R. An the small reel is an Okuma Citrix, left-hand retraive. Them is awl fan rods an reels.