Saturday, March 3, 2007
The following is a story told to me by a friend who also knows the Hillbilly... and hates the Hillbilly.
A hillbilly was attempting to erect a double-wide trailer on a piece of property. For a person of even limited intelligence, placing a double-wide trailer on a lot is a two- or three-day job; but, for this hillbilly it was a monumental task. The Egyptians did not toil so much on the pyramids as this hillbilly did on his shack.
For months, he lumbered around the site and scratched his bulbous, beard-encrusted head. Yet, still, the shack showed no progress. The trailer stood there limply on a mountain of dirt and tarp.
While most contractors would be concerned with water and electricity and perhaps a viable roadway to the home site, this hillbilly scoffed at such frivolities.
He had a pickup truck. (The hillbilly believes all problems can be solved with either duct tape or a pickup truck.)
He simply drove on a semi-level piece of ground and traveled across for what most civilized human beings would be a front lawn.
Of course, the rudimentary lessons of soil erosion was lost on this hillbilly. (He was probably fornicating with a sibling the day that lesson was discussed in school.) Eventually, the truck and rain reduced the "lane" and the yard into a mud bog.
The hillbilly was undeterred. He has a pickup truck.
As he drove across the yard, the rusted vehicle bucked like an angry bull. It roared from one mud divot to the next, and then, got stuck mere feet away from the back of the shack--where the hillbilly had plotted placement of the back porch (for more junk storage).
Suddenly, with a belch of blue smoke, the truck lurched from the hole and drifted right under the back door. The engine was blown.
The hillbilly stormed off, angry that the truck was broke, that his porch wouldn't be installed, and that the rain was washing away the soot and sweat he collected on his body over the months.
After a few hours my friend heard the noise of a large vehicle. Maybe a bulldozer. Or a tractor trailer.
To his surprise, it was a huge monster truck followed by a convoy of hillbilly vehicles. There were tattered SUVs, rusted jeeps, and a few muffler-deficient cars.
Now. If you ever see a hillbilly parade of old jalopies led by a monster truck, I want you just to sit back and enjoy the show. Because there will be a show.
One hillbilly jumped from his jalopy and climbed in the stricken truck.
Of course, my friend thought the vehicle was about to be towed.
But, there was no sign of a tow rope or chain.
Instead, with a burst of angry acceleration, the monster truck surged into the broken down vehicle and with an immense "bang!" sent the truck hurtling across the back yard. Then, the monster truck hit him again! And again!
You could see the neck of the driver snap with each smack.
One last smack and the truck rolled dumbly into the front yard.
The hillbillies gathered around the truck and watched as the driver climbed out of the truck, rubbing his soar neck.
They smiled, admiring their hillbilly ingenuity.