|Humor and fun|
The cat and the rat were having a face-off. The cat was getting tired of the rat sneaking out at night and stealing the cat's food. Didn't the rat know the cat had great night vision. He did. He also had great night vision and he was faster than the cat.
The cat finally found the rat's hole. He reached in with a paw and felt around. Nothing. The cat knew the rat was in there. The rat sleeps during the day. OK, let's take a look. The cat stuck one eye up against the hole just in time to see the rat pushing a mousetrap toward him. The cat tried to jump back but the trap caught his nose.
The cat went screeching through the house . His owner, or supposed owner. got the trap of him and then threw him out for whining. The rat went to sleep.
That night the cat hid near his food bowl. He was ready to pounce when the rat got to his food. He waited and watched . He waited and watched some more. Then he dozed off. He woke up to find his bowl empty. Empty except for a sliver of cheese. That cuts it! This is insulting the cat. This is total war.
That night he waited until he thought the rat was gone for the night. The cat had knocked over the bottle of hair rinse and lathered himself up. He squeezed through the rat's hole. Now he had him. When that rat got back the cat would be waiting for him. He was.
The problem was that the hair rinse had dried. The cat was so stiff he couldn't move at all. The rat looked and him. The rat squealed a high-pitched laugh. Then the rat climbed onto the cat's back and went to sleep.
The rat felt sorry for the cat. The cat was unable to move. The rat got to where he'd go get the cat's food and hand feed the cat. Pretty soon, the rat started thinking off the cat as his pet.
The rat decided the cat was starting to smell like, well, a filthy rat. The rat started bathing him. He licked the cat clean. He thought the cat smelled decent enough and looked decent enough and could move, and...could move? Oh, no!
Cherokee, North Carolina
My wife’s brother lives just outside of Cherokee, North Carolina. He and his family are what you call the salt of the earth. Except for the cars and televisions you’d think you were living back in the 1890’s. With cars and television you feel like you’re living in the 1950’s.
My first night there I woke up and looked out the window. Couldn’t see a thing. I mean nothing. I thought I’d gone blind. I was always told if I went there I’d have to be crazy. No one said anything about going blind. I started to panic. How would I live? How would I work? How would I get out of here? Then my wife told me it was just the darkness. “It’s always like that up here”.
“Don’t they have street lights?”
Then the dogs started to howl. All 43 of them. My brother-in-law raises and trains hounds. Couldn’t be a prowler, I thought. Who could see well enough to prowl around up here. Also, why would anyone prowl around up here? Then I heard my brother-in-law yell at the dogs to, “shut up or I’m comin’ out there”. Didn’t hear another peep from them.
We had our dog with us. Sable was very curious about this place. It was a whole new world for her. She was especially amazed with the dog with the horns. I was too. We both stood there watching it. It was the most amazing thing to see that horned dog run into the fence post, shake it’s head, and then repeat it. Pretty dumb dog, I thought.
The wife said it wasn’t a dog, it was a goat. Goat? There’s no such thing as a goat. That’s just make believe. Jeez, these hill people think we flatlanders are gullible enough to believe anything. We may be flatlanders but we’re not flatliners.
On the subject of flat land, there isn’t any up there. There’s downhill and there’s uphill. That’s it. If you’re driving around you’re either looking at the sky or looking down at your own death. No, that’s an exaggeration but not by much. It may be a wishful thought. That area has the highest rate of death wishes per capita in the United States, maybe the world. No, no, there’s always West Virginia.
I remarked that every third person I saw looked like a Native American. Now everyone is looking at me. My wife reminded me that she’s Cherokee on one side of the family and this is Cherokee, North Carolina. OK, that makes sense, sort of. I guess I’m the one who’s out of place, I joked. No one laughed. No one argued or denied it either.
My brother-in-law makes a bit of his “cash money” gathering and selling herbs, he told me. Oh, that’s nice. My brother-in-law grows marijuana. If he gets busted while I’m up here I go to jail too. Do they still have chain gangs up here? Turns out he harvests ginseng roots. Seems it sells for a good price. That was a relief. Don’t know what ginseng is, what it’s used for or who wants it. He said he didn’t either. He did say you can’t smoke it. He said he tried it once and almost lost a lung.
He told me there was a nice piece of land right next door that could be had real cheap. We walked up the hill. He showed me where the land started and then where it ended. There wasn’t a flat spot anywhere. Even if I wanted to put a trailer there how would I get it up there? While I was wondering about that my brother-in-law suddenly yells, jumps three feet off the ground, and runs and gets a long stick. Then he hits my foot with it. I yelled, jumped three feet off the ground, and look for something to hit him with.
“Why’d you do that?”, I hollered.
“There was a snake on your foot.”
Sure enough. There was a snake laying where I’d been standing. “So, why didn’t you just tell me instead of hitting my foot, which may be broken.”
“Nah, I didn’t hit you that hard. I just hit hard enough to kill the snake. The reason I didn’t yell was I didn’t want to scare you none.”
I limped halfway down the hill. I fell the rest of the way. As I limped up to the porch I heard my sister-in- law tell my wife, “I guess he had a snake on his foot.”
My wife seemed to accept that as a reasonable explanation.
Later on we went walking down the road. He pointed out various edible weeds. He called them plants. They were weeds. Then he got the notion to pick some.
“These would make a great salad. No finer eating than a salad and a big, juicy bear steak.”
No, I heard that wrong. It sounded like he said bear steak. He did. That was supper. I asked what bear steak would taste like. He told me it would taste like bear.
My wife’s aunt lives at the foot of the road. She still has an outhouse. She says that way no one stays in there too long holding others up. I wouldn’t have gone in there on a bet. She says she likes “ livin’ close to nature.” In this particular case nature was a little too close for comfort. At least it hides the smell of cooking bear meat.
Uncle Jedediah is considered the biggest liar in four counties. They were just being modest. He’s the biggest liar in the state. Maybe all the states. He was entertaining though. We sat around swapping lies half the night. As he was leaving he said to my wife that he liked me a lot but, “that boy do tell some pretty farfetched tales.”
When I left my brother-in-law told me to drive carefully and slowly.
“The sheriff likes to pull over people like you.”
“You mean outsiders?”
“No, folks with money.”
If Deer Could Fight Back
The Pennsylvania Game Commission knew that deer hunting was a big racket. They sold a hundred thousand licenses to hunters even though only a few of them would get a deer. Now, though , hunting was getting to be old hat. They needed to spice up the game before it went belly up and they had to find some real work. So, they decide to generate a new game. From now on the deer would fight back.
They were gathered in the predawn after downing the hunters special at Mom’s Diner. They were wired to the max to be sure. They had their thermos’s of coffee and their sandwiches and were ready to go.
"I don’t know that I like these here new rules about the deer fightin back. I liked the old way where they ran and we shot at them", said a concerned Billy.
"The odds are still with us. Deer don’t have an opposable thumb or fingers. Even if they got a hold of a rifle they couldn’t shoot it", replied his friend Carl.
"Yea, I know all that. Still and all, I don’t like it. Deers can be sneaky."
"Are you saying that you’re afraid of deer?"
"Huh? No! I ain’t afraid of no deer. Bring em on. Just that they do have hooves and antlers."
"Well, either we get antlers to hang on the wall or they get scalps to hang on the trees."
“ Right. I always feel better talking to you."
The deer were pawing the ground and talking quietly among themselves. This was to be a different day and they weren’t sure what to make of it.
"I kinda liked the old ways better. I could run up the mountain and had a great hiding place. Those hunters wouldn’t have ever found me," said Little Augie to his buddy Big Red.
"I like the odds. We know these woods better than they do. We have natural camo and they have to wear bright orange vests. Yes, the odds are with us," replied Big Red.
"They still have a few advantages on us."
" Oh, yea, the opposable thumb thing. Yea, it’d be nice to steal a few of their guns and blast them but I have a trick of my own."
" I liked my old trick of running and hiding."
"Are saying you’re afraid of some stinkin hunters?"
"Yea, I’m afraid. They can shoot at us. What can we do?"
"They think they’re so darn smart. Well, they’ll follow a trail of droppings to try and find us. So, I went up to that clear place they always meet at and started dropping droppings from there to the cliffs. I figure we can hide by the old dead tree and when they get to the cliff we can rush out and knock em over."
"That sounds good but I don’t know"
"You afraid of them?"
"Afraid? Me? Heck, no. Bring em on."
The wardens were as ready for today as they could be.
"I liked the old regulations better than this new stuff. Deer fighting back. What moron thought that one up," said Ranger Bob." replied Ranger Mike.
"I wanted to be a warden so I could carry this here gun and tell people what to do. This changes everything."
"Yea, it does. I wanted to be a forest cop not a danged referee.