Bubbas In The Dust
And he would remember now, just as he had remembered that time
before that he had forgotten to bring the picante sauce for the possum
meat sammitches the hunters would consume in the hollows, on the
ridges, out on the flats, picante sauce trucked in from Biloxi, the sauce
that would endure, nay, the sauce that would PREVAIL; he would
remember that silent illimitable intractable Old Sasquatch not moving not
melting just disappearing into the rest of Angst County where old Sam
Kallikak, a rumdum and the rest of the fat sloppy rumdums Major deSade
and old Bagweed out shooting up the woods would say: Did you get
him, boy? And he'd HAVE TO TELL THEM: "Ah cain't." Just him and a
townie girl daring do what no others do, telling old Sergeant Buckeye:
"Ah cain't." He would remember the shaking and the question, "Cain't
whut?" And he'd remember screaming: "Ah cain't remember!" Then the
inevitable query, "Remember whut?" And the finality of his: "Whut it
WUZ!" But it was too much for him now, the agony and the sweat, too
strong for a boy going on 17 and he thought: OF COURSE. That was it all
the time, he'd remember the joke now, telling Eudora he was loaded for
bear, but she knew what he was loaded for, that time in the barn when
his uncle caught them doing the do-cee-do and the allemande left, what a
whuppin' he got, no nephew of mine is goin' to squander his yewth on
DANCIN', it's time to take you huntin', boy, and show you what the power
structure in this here county does to kill time, haw-haw, did you get it,
boy? You turn out effete on me boy, and I'll kill you. Le's go, le's go,
grab that pump action and some shells, listen, boy, hear me talkin' while
you're trampin' through these here woods, why boy I like, I like, I like the
autumn leaves a-swirlin', and the nip in the air and the communin' with
nature at the point of a gun, rilin' up my innards with a bucket of Biloxi's
Best Picante, (YUM!) (SMACK!) (SLOBBER!) (DROOL!) god it's good to
bring you out here and build your character and your blood lust, best of
all perhaps, I guess, is the actual killing yes I like to see the bullet enter
and come out the other side, yes the apex of sporting thrills yes when
the quivering stops and the light dies, why then, by God, I'm the Master
Marauder of the Mississippi Mud.
- Norm Burnett
- Alexandria, VA.
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Last Updated: 12/03/95