Oh, the pleasure of working in a cubical farm. I can see how Dilbert can write so many comics about the office life, he just has to sit in a cube for a few minutes and someone will start an interesting conversation that is good fodder for thought. Once again, a story presented itself just feet from where I sit at my computer. Starring the Redneck that sits to the other side of my cube, and with a Yankee that is transplanted here from Boston. Yankee wants to experience the Oklahoma life, hunting, fishing, water skiing, and talks Redneck into taking him out into the wild to teach him the finer points of the activities. First let me relate what happened during deer season.
"Da first thing ya gotta learn is to shoot a gun, have ya ever shot a gun that wasn't a driveby?" Redneck asked the Yankee.
Yankee replied, "I never shoat a gen."
"Then we'll go out to da lake and I'll teech ya. Dars a target rainge thar." Then Redneck proceeded to make plans to teach Yankee how to shoot. Something Redneck soon regretted.
Later at the lake, Redneck sat targets up at the thirty yard mark to make it easier on the Yankee. If he proved to be a good shot, the target would be moved back until the target would be at the one hundred yard mark. Redneck parked his pickup parallel with the target to give Yankee something to rest the rifle on.
"Put this here beanbag on da bed rail and rest da gun on it. Squeeze da trigger slow and put da cross hairs on the bull's eye. Thar be a kick so hold da gun stock tight to yer shoulder", instructed Redneck.
Yankee centered his shot and squeezed the trigger. Boom! Bull's eye first shot. Redneck raised his hand and Yankee reached up to high five him, except he forgot to take his finger off the trigger of this semi-automatic rifle. Boom! SSSSSSSSSSS! The sudden shot scared Redneck and Yankee and they almost ran each other over trying to take cover, they just knew someone was shooting at them. After a few minutes Redneck peeked over the pickup bed and noticed the bullet hole in his wheel well.
"I'm gonna kick yer Yankee arse. You sorry sunsabeech, you shot my truck!" It seems that as Yankee gave the high five he lowered the barrel of the gun and then accidentally squeezed the trigger, firing a round into the wheel well and tire.
I'd love to have read that insurance report.
I was lucky enough to hear this conversation this morning. After everyone in hearing distance quit laughing and I wiped the tears out of my eyes, I wrote some notes down.
"I ougher kill youse Redneck butt. That Katfish is the whurst fish I'd ehver ate." Yankee yelled at poor Redneck.
"Hold on there pardner, howsya cukt it.
"I fired up the grill and kooked it just like I kooked trout. It was the toughest, most foul tasting thing I every ate!" Yankee was rather bent out of shape at wasting his meal on this fish.
"You cuked it like a trout, You cuked it like a trout?" Redneck repeated it between laughing seizures on the floor. "You didn't clean it before you cooked it?"
"What do you mean clean it? I kookhd it like a trout?"
By this time I had tears in my eyes, not so much by the conversation but by the full force belly laugh that Redneck was bellowing, and the room was filled with people falling out of their chairs laughing, for no other reason but hearing Redneck's rolling laughter. Redneck finally got enough breath between laughs to tell Yankee that you skin a catfish, fillet the meat off the bones, roll it in cornmeal and cook it, not like a trout which you gut and cook, head and all.
Yankee must be still having culture shock and as he stormed off he was muttering something about "Nuthing but @#&@#@# (censored for the non-sailors out there) Rednecks around here. I moved across the country to work with @#&#@# Rednecks"