wickedflea | (no subject)

Crap, my computer crapped out again and ate another post.

You ever see that "Tips for Yankees Moving South" thing that circulates via e-mail and on the web? One of the tips goes: "If you do run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in the cab of a four wheel drive with a 12-pack of beer and a tow chain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them. Just stay out of their way. This is what they live for." That's actually based in truth. I've gotten stuck on the side of the road twice in Mississippi, and on both occasions some dudes quickly showed up and got me out. Once, it actually was a couple of guys in a four-wheel drive, but the other time was a little different. I had the beer, and they were on foot. I'd been to the beer store in the next county because Starkville doesn't sell alcohol on Sundays, and afterward I was just sort of aimlessly driving around on country roads, I suppose because I had nothing better to do. Well, at some point I decided to turn around, and I somehow botched the intricate procedure and ended up stuck in the mud. Almost before I realized I was stuck, a gang of shirtless rednecks came bounding out of the trailer across the road and had me freed in about two seconds flat. It cost me about six beers, but I gave them out gladly.

I won't go into what made me think of that whole thing, but the funny thing I remember about it is the brief exchange I had with the leader of the crew. As I was passing out beers, the guy (who was a dead ringer for Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel) asked me, "Hey, ya ain't got one o' them good-uns, do ya?"

"Uhhhh . . . I'm sorry--what?"

"Them good-uns. You got any?"

"I . . . well, I'm not sure . . ."

"You know, them jernts."

"OH! Haha, no, I don't really smoke much anymore."

"Aight then."

Why do I remember that? I'm clearly insane.