A few weeks ago the wife and I travelled to see her sister in Missouri. Miss Sister is a teacher in the middle of nowhere, where all they do is drink and hang out getting hammered.
We were invited that Saturday to go with Miss Sister to a teacher friend’s house to hang. I was excited – maybe there really ARE some cultured folks out here!
I walked in the kitchen to find the fridge to stash my Sam Adams. As I walked in, I saw the faintest gleam of green and yellow out of the corder of my eye. “Sweet farm implements!” I exclaimed, as I realized I was in a John Deere themed kitchen. I kid you not, they had the wallpaper. The border. The curtains. The towels. The pot holders. They even had decorative tins on top of the cabinets, all emblazoned with the fabled Yellow and Green.
I shook my head as I squeezed my beer in between the Budweiser and the box of wine. I quickly looked for an exit, and escaped to the outdoor deck.
I stepped into the abyss.
They were grilling burgers in the dark. Pitch black. I asked the fellow tending to the flame if he had any outdoor light. He said yeah, but it attracts the “skeeters”. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was too cool now and all of the skeeters had been killed of weeks ago, so we stood there in the darkness.
Looking for a conversation, I asked one of the local yokels for a smoke. I scored one but of course no one had a light. “Want me ta smoke it fer ya too?? Heeh hhehhh” was the response I got. The tender of the flame offered to light it for me.
He takes the cig from me and sticks right in between the grates to the flame below. “Dang it, light you ferkin’ homo!” I swear to GOD the guy called the cigarette a homo. I have heard them called “fags”, but never the H-word.
He hands me my greasy burger-infused cig and we continue with our conversation. He tells a few off color Obama jokes. I tell a few on-target Bush jokes. He gets red faced, and waves his grill tool in my face.
“DO YOU LOVE QUEERS?” he yells.
I said no, but I do love a good cigarette now and then.