Tuesday, December 18, 2007


I'm fast asleep in my brother Smokie's easy chair when i'm awakened by what I perceive to be a golf ball to the forehead. It's been expertly thrown across the room by my 6'4" maniac of a nephew Ezak. It turns out to be GG's chickadee, that's as heavy as a golf ball, only sharper. I wake up with a start and a string of invectives. "Sorry Uncle XMO." Ezak giggles like a little girl. The occasion is a pre-Xmas XMO bash at Smokie's house. It's louder than a subway train pulling into the station, still, only a ceramic bird to the forehead could wake me from my booze and food induced stupor. OK, now I'm up.
Up until this year my sister Mrs. B's kid Boggs was the only one of the kids to hunt. But recently Ezak has picked up the gun. He killed a turkey with a borrowed shotgun and went deer hunting with some sort of worthless military style rifle. "It's got a bayonet!" he tells me proudly. Then he switches gears and tells me of giving a local Maine debutante a lap dance wearing only a bright red thong. (That would be Ezak...not the girl wearing said thong.) I have to admit the kid has talent, and if anyone could hunt with a bayonet attached to his deer rifle, it would be him. But Bird, Smokie and I feel an uncle's responsibility in steering him in the right sporting direction. His father's worthless in these matters. He's too busy baking pies for the local womenfolk.
So Smokie pull's out "Kenny", a nice Marlin .30/.30, given to him by Kenny Williams years ago and gives it to the kid. You can tell by the look on his face he would've preferred an AK with a sniper scope. The youth are so brainwashed by the military/industrial/media/ video gaming culture, that they don't have a clue as to what tool suits what job. C-4 explosive in a pine cone grenade would do the job just as quickly as a 30.06 with a good scope, he's thinking. Nonetheless he takes the gun and blathers on about the three monster bucks he missed with "Bayonet Boy". My brothers and I look at each other. It took us all years in the woods to even get a shot, let alone see a big buck. Well, here comes the next generation. Better duck and get behind a tree. When the smoke clears, a 6'4" hillbilly in a red thong may be running through the woods, with his bayonet gleaming . It's an American tradition.


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