Squirrels, Bacon, God and the Devil
One of the things I remember most about my grandmother was her sense of humor - and her stories. Even as a young girl I repeated them to any willing audience.
My mother cautioned me. “Marie, just because your Grandmother told you that, doesn’t mean you should repeat it.”
Now, my grandmother did not cuss. She was a woman of tremendous faith and to my knowledge never spoke or acted improperly, but my mother followed Emily Post to the letter. Bodily functions were never mentioned, and the particular story in question was a satire on Gone With the Wind...
“Mama, what happened to Daddy?”
“Well, son he is Gone With the Wind…”
My mother was horrified.
Other stories described everyday experiences, told with a humorous twist, such as the two hunters determined to live off the land. After several days with no success, except one small squirrel, they argued over who would eat it.
“Tell ya, what.” Frank said. “Let’s go to sleep, and the one who has the best dream gets the squirrel.”
Both men lay down, wrapped in old, tattered blankets against the chill night air, and dreamed.
Early the next morning they compared their dreams while sitting around a small fire, bellies growling with anticipation.
Harold said, “I had the best dream by far. I dreamed I went to heaven on a sofa.”
Frank shook his head, “Naw. I had the best dream. I saw you going and I got up and et the squirrel.”
You bite one end, I’ll bite the other. The first to let go loses and the other gets to eat the bacon.”
“Agreed.” The German replied.
The two men bit their respective ends of the slab.
Through clinched teeth the Russian asked, “Is you ready?”
The German replied, “Yah.”
Are you still with me? Or are you shaking your head and hitting the close button? Wait, the best is yet to come…I promise.
The older boy said, “This bag isn’t going to hold all the way home. Let’s go in, sit in the shade and divide these walnuts.”
The younger one nodded. “I could sure sit in the cool shade for a while.”
They crossed over the fence using the stile (steps built over the fence to facilitate crossing from one side to the other). At the top two walnuts fell from the bottom of the bag.
The older boy said. “Let’s leave those and pick them up on our way back.”
“Fine with me. I just want to sit down in that cool grass.”
The boys walked several yards into the cemetery and collapsed beneath a huge willow.
Tearing the sack open the older boy divided the walnuts. “One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me.”
A pair of Winos came down the road. They stopped beside the stile, leaned against its worn wood, and passed a bottle back and forth.
From inside the graveyard they heard a voice. “One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me.”
One Wino elbowed the other. “Hey, hear that? That’s God and the Devil in there dividin’ up those poor souls.”
The other man’s eyes widened as he listened.
“One for you. One for me. One for you. One for me.”
Beneath the willow tree, the boys had finished dividing the nuts. The older boy said, “Well, that about does it for the ones in here. Let’s get the two out by the stile.”
When the boys reached the fence and collected the last two walnuts, the older one noticed the Winos. “Hey, look at them They’re running as if the devil was chasin' ‘em.”