The Feud

Cousins,
I reckon I might have to declare an official feud between the Hollen an' the Flanagan clans if this day turns any worse.  My hometown of Beloved is all in a mess because of Jim Flanagan an' I am tryin' to resolve it an' get life here back to normal.

See, Jim told this story up to Columbus, Ohio a while back about some raccoons he got drunk with old beer.  I sort of thought that was a funny thing an came home talkin' about the story... you want to know about it ask Jim Flanagan.  I ain't even gettin' in that hot water again.

My Cousin Peanut thought it was just a hoot.  He could just see them coons carryin' on an' he wanted to try an' see if he could get critters likkered up.  He stood in the bushes round home with an open jar of moonshine for hours Wednesday night tryin' to lure coons out an' get 'em lit on shine.  I reckon the coons didn't like the smell 'cause none showed up.

He figured the only thing left to do was to pick on harmless,,, and caged critters that couldn't get away.  You may remember I have been on the Squirrel Fishin' circuit for ESPN for some time since I invented the sport.  To that end I keep my eight tiny squirrels in a big ol' log complete with individual doors an' brass plaques over each door with their names... Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner...an' Fluffy.  Yes, they are the same eight squirrels that pull my little red wagon at Thanksgiving each year for the Beloved Thanksgiving Day Parade in which I am Santy.  Folks just love to see them in them little ol' hamster wheels I have welded onto the tongue of that red wagon... just a runnin' as hard as they can run, takin' me through the streets of Beloved as I spread Christmas cheer to my many cousins an' friends.

Well, Peanut got hold of Fluffy as the poor squirrel was sleepin' an dosed him good with moonshine.  Held Fluffy for a good while till he woke up.

Problem is, Fluffy is a mean drunk.  Fluffy lit into Cousin Peanut right hard, scratchin', bitin an runnin' that big ol' bushy tail right up Peanut's left nostril just for plain meanness!  Fluffy crawled down Cousin Peanut's shirt, bitin' an all till he got under Peanut's long johns an' discovered something that no one knew...my Cousin Peanut had his belly button pierced and had a ring in it!

Well, Fluffy commenced to doin' chin ups on that ring there and soon was pullin' on it, bitin' an tryin' to steal the thing.  By this time Cousin Peanut was on the ground screamin' an carryin' on so that my neighbor, who happens to be Peanut's Brother-In Law, Brother Woodrow Budder, pastor of the Booger Holler Holiness Church came out.  Brother Woodrow decided Peanut was possessed an' took to tryin' to drive the devil out.

That ticked off Fluffy to no end, givin' credit to some evil bein' who weren't even there.  Fluffy bit off that ring, opened it up an' drove it through his right ear so as to have a pirate look to himself an' came flyin' out the right cuff of Cousin Peanut's overalls.  He launched his sorry drunk self at Brother Woodrow who determined it was the Demon Rum... who shows up a lot back in the hills.  Woodrow ran to his pick up truck an' tore off down the holler toward the turn to Booger Holler, an ' his church.

Fluffy ran right after him, hopped into the back end of the truck an waited under an' old crazy quilt that Woodrow had layin' in the back.

When Woodrow ran into the church, Fluffy was right behind him.  Woodrow ran to the office an' Fluffy commenced to rain holy heck in the sanctuary.  He noticed a box to one side with lots of holes in it an' staggered over to investigate while he waited for Woodrow to come out.

The box was where Booger Holler Holiness Church kept their rattlesnake for the times the church had snake handlin's.  They called the snake Ol' Yeller 'cause it was so old the diamonds on its back had faded to yellow.  The kids in Sunday School would take Ol' Yeller an' paint new diamonds on him durin' Sunday School before a snake handlin'.  It weren't dangerous since Ol' Yeller had lost his fangs years before.

Well, Fluffy got in there an' saw Yeller curled round some tobaccer an' rollin' paper makin' himself a cigarette.  Fluffy was drunk already, bloody from wrasslin' with Cousin Peanut, had that ring in his ear an' was just a mess.  He scared Ol' Yeller to death right there an' as Yeller died that rolled cigarette flew up into the air where Fluffy caught it.  He ran with it to the alter, lit it on a candle burnin' there an smoked that dang thing right there in church.

Woodrow saw that an' had had it with that drunk squirrel.  He came out with a ping pong paddle, got hold of Fluffy's tail an' wore him out.

Fluffy didn't take that too well.  He got hold of Brother Woodrow right back an' when the dust settled the inside of Booger Holler Holiness Church was wrecked, Woodrow required 1,239 stitches an' Fluffy took off for downtown Beloved.

Annie Pankey is the owner of Pankey's Hankies, a fine linen, lace an' antique quilt store.  Annie is also just about a bubble off plumb.  She had heard about green beer for St. Patrick's Day celebrations from a Catholic friend of hers.  Now, they ain't a lot of Catholics much in Beloved, but Annie decided to reach out to them by havin' an interfaith green beer drinkin' contest to celebrate the Irish in all of us down home.  Problem is, she didn't have no recipe for the green beer.

Jim Flanagan had been sendin' his old beer down to some of his kin near my hometown of Beloved an' they had sold the old beer to Annie to experiment with to get just the right color green for the celebration today.  Folks kept tellin' her that a 50-50 mix of beer to green dye was too much, but she weren't listenin'.

About this time Fluffy snuck into town, startin' to sober up an' lookin' for likker.  He smelled that old beer an' climbed into Annie's place through an' open window.  Annie had been samplin' the beer since Tuesday an' didn't notice.

Fluffy fell into a mason jar full of beer - 50-50 beer dye mix an' had to drink his way out to keep from drownin'.  By the time he could climb out he was green inside an' out an' mad that he had to drink a whole quart of skunk beer.  Besides, his green fur was clashin' with his new pirate earring.

That dang squirrel has done liberated my other seven squirrels, stuck them all in mason jars full of green beer an' they are loose in town.  It is terrible.  I have to leave tonight right for a squirrel fishin' exhibition down in Richmond, Virginia.  I have caught Donner an' Comet, Oh My Darlin' has washed them, used some "Just for Men" hair dye to get them brown again an' is feedin' them strong coffee through tubes attached to an enema bag.

I have been in the streets of town all night with my squirrel fishin' rig, castin' line after line into the trees an on top of buildin's tryin' to get my squirrels back.  They weren't eatin' nuts like they usually do, so I had to resort to other things.  Right now I have Dasher on my line, caught him with a Vienna sausage an' some kraut served up on a Ritz cracker.  I have been tryin' to reel him in for near an hour.  I caught Donner an' Comet on some of them cocktail onions with a dash of bitters on them.  I might have to try some hot sauce on sardines if them squirrles don't sober up soon.

The rest of them squirrels are wanderin' through town, bangin' on doors, demandin' old skunky beer, Chex Mix an' carryin' them little cocktail umbrellas, opened over their heads to keep them dry so the green dye won't wash off.  Fluffy has been seen in the hills 'round home tryin' to start a squirrel revolution.

I don't know if I can catch them all in time.  I don't know if these are the last days of Beloved, of squirrel fishin', of civilization as we know it...  I'll get back to y'all later this weekend to update you.

All due to Jim Flanagan an his dang bad beer.

4th of July Report

Well Cousins,
I have to tell you that the 4th of July in my hometown of Beloved was quite a big deal again this year.

Main Street was just loaded with buntings.  Annie Pankey, owner of Pankey's Hankies (the antique and lace goods store in town) got hold of a catalog from a flag company an' used her business to get the wholesale price on buntings.  Folks all up an' down Main Street kicked in an' bout them things to decorate storefronts, homes an buildings along the way.  Y'all have never seen anything as wonderful as red, white an' blue buntings movin' gentle like in the breeze down a busy street in some little ol' town like Beloved.

The Carnegie Library an' Pappy Yokum Masonic Lodge #149 ordered the great big ol' buntings for their buildin's right in the center of town next to Founder's Square.  The Square was decorated an' even the gazebo like buildin' that houses the still sleepin' form of Sleepy Jean had buntings all around.  All that hammerin' an' carryin' on actually made Sleepy Jean roll over to one side for a week or two.  Imagine that, after sleepin' for all those years undisturbed, she actually rolled over... course Sleepy Jean is another story.

You may have heard me tell the story of my Cousin Peanut's fried turkey a couple years back.  Seems he injected a small tom he shot with a quart of cajun sauce and 2 gallons of the best moonshine that the hills of Appalachia ever produced.  When that thing hit the hot peanut oil in the fryer, it took off,  going interstellar almost and ended up feedin' them American boys what was livin' on that Russian Space station a fine turkey dinner complete with little plastic flags attached to each wing...but that ain't the point of my story.

Since it is customary to do fireworks on the 4th of July, the town Elders - that's John and Fred Elder who are the only folks who will come to the 4th of July plannin' meetin's, the Elders decided that usin' the basic idea of injectin' chickens, Cornish hens or turkeys with moonshine an' then firin' 'em off fit right in.

They was a Cornish hen race for the youngin's - ages 5 to 12.  They each was given a one pound Cornish hen and four ounces of moonshine to inject into the tail of the bird.  They was allowed to decorate it anyway they wanted as long as they didn't add more than the four ounces of shine and 1 additional ounce of decorations.  They placed the birds in a trough made of gutter pipe with an open end an' aimed them dang birds no more than 12 degrees in the air.  Longest flight wins.

Johnny Ray Sizemore added little bat wings to his an' painted it black in honor of his favorite comic book hero an' won!  Believe it or not his bird went 17 miles before sputterin' out.  Charlie Jenkins got honorable mention 'cause that dang coyote got a-hold of his bird before folks found it and measured.  It may have went 16.4 miles or the coyote might have found it an' carried it that far before it was ate... no one knows so they gave him the benefit of the doubt.

For the adults they was a limit of a 7 pound turkey with no decorations an' 12 ounces of moonshine.  The FAA put that limitation on due the the plain fact that last year's races messed up the flights of folks goin' in an' out of Lexington, Kentucky's airport.  The winner was Birdie Sue Poovey who saw her bird go 4 miles into the air before explodin' in a show of outer space oyster dressin' filled with sparklers on little ol' hankie parachutes that floated down just a twinklin' like fallin' stars.  'Course her daddy is Percival Poovey, "Purveyor of Potent Potables"... that is to say, he makes the moonshine.  We suspect he did up a special batch just for her.  So she is "Flyin' Shine Turkey Queen" this year.  We had a little ol' turkey crown made up with real Saworski crystals an' everthin'.  The back end of the turkey fits on her head an' the tail hangs down on her forehead like some jewel.  Man, was she somethin' to see.

We fried turkeys all day, but did not allow any to be injected with moonshine.  FAA rules an' all, you know.

The night ended with fryin' hens filled with fireworks an' injected with just a few ounces of moonshine shot off about a mile or so into the  air.  The fireworks an' moonshine burnin' would cook them fryin' hens as they came down, explodin' them into nicely broasted legs, thighs, wings and perfectly split breasts done to perfection.  Folks who had been there before brought sheets, butterfly nets an' the occasional bow an' arrow to try to snag a piece as it fell to earth in the fading light.

Dozens of youngin's ran around through the crowd chasin' each other like youngin's do.  A few couple sat an' gazed deep into each other's eyes an' missed the whole display.  Older folks sat an' talked quietly while they watched, rememberin' the way it used to be an' all.

It was a good 4th of July in Beloved.  I can't wait till Sheep Dip Days.  Now, that is one great festival!!!

Downtown Beloved Report

Downtown Beloved Report
By: Miss Annie Pankey

Christmas time in our home of Beloved, Kentucky is always a wonderful time of year.  Us folks who are members of the Beloved Merchants Association voted again to decorate the streets of town before the annual Thanksgiving Day Parade.  We strung a right smart load of lights all up an’ down the street on the trees an’ around windows.  They was all lit up Thanksgiving’ evenin’ after the traditional turkey fry an’ jet turkey races put on by the Pappy Yokum Masonic Lodge #149.  Folks inject a quart of moonshine into a 13 pound turkey and light that thing’s tail. Them turkeys take off like they was scalded dogs!  The best distance this year was a turkey what was brought in by Cousin Peanut Chappell.  His turkey went horizontal quickly thanks to the plastic American flags on each wing an’ flew 47 miles before it run out of fuel.  ‘Course, Cousin Peanut was actually the originator of the flyin’ jet turkey, but that is another story.

Beloved’s Storyteller Laureate, Cousin Stephen Hollen was Santy Claus for the parade again this year.  He always comes down home with his little red wagon and his 8 pet squirrels.  He named them squirrels Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixon, Comet, Cupid, Donner an’ Fluffy.  Storyteller Stephen Hollen has welded 8 little hamster wheels to the pull handle of that wagon an’ them there squirrels pull him all over Beloved dressed like Santy.  Y’all will have to ask him more about that.

The winner of this year’s decoratin’ contest was again the small antique, quilt an’ lace goods shop named “Pankey’s Hankies”.  The owner did a lovely job decoratin’ the window with a marvelous collection of Santy Claus figurines.  It was delightful to see the daffodils forced to bloom from bulbs in the plastic Easter Bunny.  This is the sixth year in a row that fine establishment has won the decoratin’ prize.

Editor’s Note: Miss Pankey is  the owner of Pankey‘s Hankies, and is also the contest chairwoman.

Neighbor Beater Tomatoes

Now, I just don't know how folks are where you might be from, but in Beloved, Kentucky, folks are serious about their tomatoes. Tomatoes, or tomaters or just plain ol' 'maters they may be, but raisin' them wonderful red fruits is a passion in Beloved.

Uncle Billy Gilbert always worked hard to try to be the first to have ripe tomatoes. He would start seeds inside with mason jars over the seedlin's. Them seedlin's would be transplanted out to cold frames as soon as the weather got passable and then into a garden when chance of frost passed.

Other folks had theories, secrets and special seeds saved from one year to the next. No one talked much about how they did it...if they won.

Whichever lucky citizen was the first with a ripe tomatoe would show up with the lovely fruit in downtown Beloved with a smile and the prize to be shown off to all who would stop to look.

In Beloved word would get 'round and everyone would stop to look.

Cousin Peanut tried year after year to be the first with a "mater" but his tendency to forget his garden made him an unlikely candidate for the glory that would be heaped upon the victor. Folks felt bad every year when Cousin Peanut would show up to see the winning tomatoe. He would stand and stare for the longest time. Sister Hazel Budder, the preacher's wife and Cousin Peanut's sister knew when he left he would shed a quiet tear. Cousin Peanut was almost always an "also ran" in about anything he ever tried.

'Cept that one year.

Folks started early with their seedlin's under glass as usual. Uncle Billy Gilbert actually showed Cousin Peanut how to start a little ol' "mason jar greenhouse". Cousin Peanut put out his seedlin's ahead of a lot of folks. Then promptly went back to his old ways of not tendin' the garden much. His Daddy, Vergie was bad sick and his Mama, Mz. Chappell wasn't much better.

That was why Uncle Billy called a nephew of his that worked at the agricultural school at University of Kentucky. He told that nephew, Johnny Gilbert, what he wanted to do...asked if they was tomatoes growin' in the greenhouse and if Johnny would help. Of course Johnny said yes and the famous "Mater Caper" was hatched.

A few nights later Johnny showed up in Beloved. After dark him and Uncle Billy snuck over to Booger Holler where the Chappells lived, dug up Peanut's sorry ol' scraggly tomatoe vines and replaced them with beautiful vines laden with little green fruit.

Cousin Peanut made a haphazard inspection of the garden a day or two later on his way to the little ol' shack out back an' was amazed that his vines were covered with baby tomatoes! He went everywhere braggin' about them little green marbles!

Then promptly forgot them again.

A week or so later, Johnny made another trip and took a secret ride with Uncle Billy over to Booger Holler. Tomatoe vines were traded and transplanted again. Cousin Peanut found that his vines had grown and his tomatoe crop was even better. My oh my how that boy did crow! Even though Vergie couldn't get out to the garden, Cousin Peanut told him about every little tomater! As Vergie an' Mz. Chappell sat in the house together, they would smile and beam at the sudden success of their wayward boy.

The secret gardening trips continued for weeks.

Then Vergie got the pneumonia and Peanut forgot about his tomatoe plants. Vergie didn't last long before he gave it up an' died. He was to be buried in the Chappell graveyard up on the mountain under a sycamore tree overlookin' the little farm he loved.

When Uncle Billy heard that Vergie had died he drove his truck over to the Peabody Post Office an' called Johnny. The night before the funeral Johnny an' Uncle Billy made one more night time raid on Cousin Peanut's garden.

The funeral was held at Booger Holler Holiness Church. Brother Woodrow Budder preached a funeral sermon to beat the band. Folks expected no less, seein' as how Vergie was Brother Woodrow's Daddy-in-Law.

Vergie's casket was carried up the side of the mountain by six strong mountain men. The crowd stood quiet like as final prayers were said and Vergie's boy Chester read the 23rd Psalm. It was a lovely service and the day was glorious up on that hillside. The sun warmed the bodies if not the hearts of the folks gathered to say goodbye one last time.

As folks walked together down the hill they visited and talked quietly. When they got to the bottom of the hill each an' every man jack of 'em stopped an' didn't go another step.

Finally, the Chappell family came down. Mz. Chappell was holdin' on to a couple of her youngin's an' a snifflin' an' such. She was the first to walk through the crowd. She asked what everyone was a doin'. They all pointed to Cousin Peanut's weedy ol' garden patch.

"Peanut, come here, son." Mz. Chappell called.

Peanut made his way through the crowd and looked into his garden. There in the weeds was one beautiful tomatoe vine, curled perfectly around itself an' up a wood stake.

Hangin' from that vine was not one, but two beautiful, perfectly round, red-ripe tomatoes. Peanut reverently picked each and held them in the air for all to see. The crowd sighed "aaahhh" in unison as Cousin Peanut grinned. Everyone knew what this meant. Cousin Peanut had not just the first, but the first AND second ripe tomatoe in Beloved. He had braggin' rights for a year!

Folks offered right then and there to take Peanut to town. Someone found a basket full of biscuits in their car and emptied out the biscuits so Cousin Peanut would have a proper way to display his prize.

Folks left quickly, followin' the truck that carried the champion an' his fruits to the braggin' bench in downtown Beloved. Uncle Billy helped Mz. Chappell an' some of the ladies of the church carry in the bowls of food that friends an' family would gather to eat later.

As he went out for a big ol' bowl of potatoe salad, Mz. Chappell followed him out.

"They ain't no more, Mz. Chappell. This here is the rest of it." Uncle Billy said.

"I ain't here for carryin' no food. I know what you did."

Uncle Billy looked up the mountain, "I don't reckon I know what you are talkin' about."

"We both do. I seen you an' your nephew in that garden late at night more than once. Do you think it is right, Billy? It is cheatin', after all." she said quietly.

Uncle Billy grinned a little, "Nah, ain't no more cheatin' than all the other tricks we all try. They came out of his garden an' he ain't the one that claimed they was the first. I don't believe the good Lord is gonna bar the door or pull the latch string in from Heaven's gate for this one."

Mz. Chappell smiled, snickered and slapped Uncle Billy, "I almost shot you'uns the first time I seen you out there."

"Wouldn't 'a been the first time I was shot at." he said with his orneriest grin.

Cousin Peanut sat on that bench for days showin' off them tomatoes. No one ever knew how good they tasted. He left 'em in that basket till they was right rotten.

His picture ran in the Manchester Enterprise.

Funny thing was, when Cousin Peanut talks about that year, it ain't never the year his Daddy died. It is always the year he had the first tomatoes.

Cosmic Bunny

Years ago, not too very far from my hometown of Beloved, Kentucky some of my kin lived on Arnett’s Fork, right near Peabody, Kentucky. Now up on Arnett’s Fork was a one room schoolhouse where a whole herd o’ my kin was schooled. Mz. Birdie Sue Poovey was the schoolteacher back then.

My Cousin Peanut used to hang around the schoolhouse a good bit. Mz. Poovey wanted to think Cousin Peanut was a tryin’ to better his self. Truth was he had it real bad for Ms. Poovey. He would come in on cold mornin’s right early an’ start a fire in the woodstove, sweep up, clean the ‘rasers. Now, he had an odd way of cleanin’ ‘em. He would beat ‘em on his self till they come clean. He figured all them words on the slate board was in them ‘rasers an’ if he slapped ‘em on his self he might get some learnin…we’d call it by osmosis. Didn’t help none a’tall.

One day Mz. Poovey got a letter from the education an’ learnin’ folks at the Space Program. Said they had been sendin’ seeds an’ critters up into space to see what it would do to ‘em. They was a lookin’ for schools an’ teacher folks to raise some o’ them there seeds to see what they turned out like.

Mz. Poovey had been to the drive-in over to Hazard an’ had seen some o’ them Martian movies an’ was not inclined to raise some kind o’ turnips that was gonna mutate an’ take over the earth. She read the letter out loud to Cousin Peanut that they was carrot seeds, lettuce seeds, punkin an’ cucumber, mushmelon, watermelon an even corn an’ bean seeds. ‘Course they offered lil ol’ monkeys an’ bunnies an’ rats an’ mice to folks if they had the right facilities for keepin’ ‘em.

Well, Peanut heard ‘bout them monkeys an’ would not leave Mz. Poovey alone. He wanted one o’ them monkeys, sure enough. He kept on an’ on till Mz. Poovey agreed to write for some o’ the seeds jus’ to keep Peanut happy.

Mz. Poovey forgot she had been teachin’ Peanut to read back at Christmas time so as he could write to Santy Claus. She had filled out the form for seeds only an’ had it in an unsealed envelope layin’ on her desk. When she took the youngin’s out for recess Peanut got into the letter an’ marked with an X the space where you said you wanted a monkey an’ had the facilities to care for it.

A month or so later here come a big ol’ crate for Ms. Poovey. Peanut was there when it was delivered. When Mz. Poovey opened it they was all kinds o’ seeds, books to be readin’ ‘bout them “gramma” waves an’ all, log books to track the growth o’ the seeds. Inside the box also was one lil ol’ white bunny rabbit.

Peanut said, “That ain’t no monkey!” an’ Mz. Poovey ‘bout whipped him right then an’ there. She tol’ him he had to take care o’ that bunny an’ he groused a while an’ then said alright. He made a little cage an’ they kept it for a right smart while inside the school house.

Them seeds come up real fast an’ Peanut noticed they was a lot o’ carrots. They needed thinnin’ out, so he pulled a few ever’ day an’ fed them to the space rabbit. Ever’ day it got bigger an’ bigger. He sort o’ figured he might jus’ fatten it up for Thanksgivin’

Over the summer it got huge an’ by fall it was ‘bout big enough to take huntin for razorback hogs. Peanut tried to train it to hunt hogs, but it were not much for hog meat. It did get good at trackin’, though.

That fall he brought it back to school. Mz. Poovey commented on how big it was a getting’ an wondered if it was cause o’ them gramma waves. Peanut mentioned he had been feedin’ the grammaw wave food to Cosmo the Cosmic Bunny, as he called it.

Then one day it got a whiff o’ the coal oil in the lamp sittin’ on the table in the back.

The next mornin’ when Peanut got there it had broke out o’ the cage an’ was a drinkin’ the coal oil. He thought it was a gonna die, but it didn’t. It got bigger, matter o’ fact.

A few days later it climbed through an open window an’ got in the shed where the 5 gallon can o’ coal oil was an drank it all.

Then that cosmic bunny got loose. It went to the next farm, smellin’ the coal oil. It had been taught by Cousin Peanut to track an’ it was a trackin’ coal oil. It drank three five gallon cans…an’ got bigger.

It went to the next farm an’ the next, breakin’ into sheds, garages an’ barns an’ drinkin’ coal oil.

One day it sniffed a little propane comin’ from a leaky tank. It took them big ol’ teeth an’ bit a lil hole in the pipe from that tank an’ drank ‘er dry. All 300 gallons o’ propane. That there cosmic bunny got even bigger. It were bigger than a young heifer by now.

It took to climbin’ creosote ‘lectric poles and suckin’ ‘lectricity right from the wires! I ain’t a lyin’ to ye, I’m tellin’ a story here.

Folks saw it hoppin’ away, big as a chicken coop. They ran for their guns an’ fryin’ pans, but it were wily an’ got away ever’ time..

Bigger an’ bigger, gigantic got that cosmic bunny. It took to diggin’ holes in the road deep enough fer it to lay on it’s back in. When a car would drive over it…bunny claws would dig into the sides o’ the car an’ them bunny teeth would puncture the gas tank an’ suck ‘er dry.

With ever’ drink it got bigger an’ bigger… an’ mean, that cosmic bunny got mean. It chased a pack o’ redbone coon hounds up a tree an’ ate ‘em, tree an all!
It was a garglin’ moonshine an snortin’ dynamite. Ever’ day to drank gallons o’ coal oil, gas an’ even got hooked on diesel. They it dug into a coal mine an gorged on soft coal. It et hundreds o’ tons o’ the finest Kentucky coal.

That cosmic bunny took to breakin’ into tobaccer barns an’ chewin’ whole crops o’ tobaccer. An it could spit, Lordy, you’uns don’t even want to see how far it could spit.

Cousins, it had got big as a coal truck an’ was headed for my hometown o’ Beloved. Kentucky. It was suckin’ down coal oil an’ gas on the was an destroyin’ ever’ thing in it’s path. Folks figured it was them grammaw waves what ruined that cosmic bunny. ‘Course, Annie Pankey thought it got mean after it got into Percival Poovey’s moonshine. Lot o’ folks do get mean when they drink his shine.

Folks got scared, ‘cause if that cosmic bunny got to town it would find gas stations, the Propane Co-op an’ the coal yard by the railroad. They was afraid it would destroy the whole town o’ Beloved. Cars, propane tanks an ever’ drop o’ coal oil was moved from it’s path.

It got closer an’ closer to Beloved. Ever’ mile or two it would find a car or truck some one had abandoned an’ would turn ‘er up an swaller down the gas, regular or ethyl, if it could get it.

That cosmic bunny was hungrier an’ hungrier. It was bigger than an’ elephant, near as big as one o’ them dinosaurs by then. As it got hungrier it slowed down more an’ more.

Folks held their breath an’ hid their youngin’s.

Finally it was just over Big Hill, close to Goose Rock an’ followin’ the road straight up Route 66 to Beloved. They was panic in the streets unlike anythin’ ever seen in Beloved since the prune juice factory had the fire in 1921, sending over 100,000 gallons of boilin’ prune juice down the streets o’ Beloved. Now, that were a disaster.

That rabbit got to Big Creek, past Teges Creek an was passin’ Paddy Rock with a look on it’s face. Folks was scairt, sure ‘nough.

The sheriff an’ a bunch o’ fellers was a drainin’ ever gas tank in it’s way. They let the propane out o’ ever’ tank, shut off the ‘lectric at the ‘lectric co-op. They even drained all the stills along the creek. Finally they weren’t a drop o’ anything in that cosmic bunny’s path.

It started a wailin’, cryin’ fer a drink o’ somethin’, it were dry an’ had the cotton mouth. Nothin’ worse than a cottontail with the cotton mouth.

Then , just two miles from town it stopped. It’s ol’ ears started a quiverin’, it’s feet was a kickin’ an’ a diggin’ asphalt chunks as big as washtubs out o’ the road.

Then if fell over, kicked a couple o’ times an’ was still.

Them space program folks was in town, waitin’ to try an’ capture it. They was the first out to the body. Army men from Fort Knox was there an’ wouldn’t even let ol’ Cousin Peanut get close. Peanut was a blubberin’ like a baby over that cosmic bunny.

They hauled in a ‘frigerated railroad car an’ loaded that cosmic bunny up, gramma waves an’ all an’ hauled it away. Some folks say they took it to Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio – that’s where them Martians are stored what crashed at Roswell, New Mexico, ye know. Other folks said it was hauled all the way to Roswell. Some folks didn’t much care where it was took, as long as it was took.

‘Bout a year later Mz Poovey got a letter from that education program with the space folks. It explained that them there gramma waves sure enough did somethin’ to that cosmic bunny…but Percival Poovey’s moonshine got it all whacked in the head.

They also determined what happened that day as it got closer an’ closer to Beloved.

See, it didn’t die……

It just ran out of gas.

Sunday Dinner on the Grounds

Lordy, will y'all looky at the tables out yonder under the maple trees. They are plumb full of food. I don't know if the preacher will be able to get done preachin' before his tongue starts a beatin' his lips to death if he smells all this here good food. Mama used to say they wasn't nothin' better than a dinner on the grounds here at Booger Holler Holiness Church.

The Women's Missionary League set up four o' them foldin' tables. Ever' one of 'em is plumb full. Why don't you'uns walk over an' take a look with me. Now keep your hands to your own self. One thing I don't stand for is youngin's stickin' dirty ol' hands into the food.

Looky there, that first table has all the salads an' such. There is three kinds o' tomatoes! Big ol' Better Boy beef steak tomatoes, regular slicin' ones an a big ol bowl o' them little tommy-toes. I like them best. See there, someone has sliced some o' them tommy-toes with onions an' poured I-talian dressin' on em. Mmm, fresh from the garden green onions, sliced bell peppers, banana peppers, cucumbers sliced both ways an some in vinegar with onions sliced thin enough to read a paper through. There is some of Sister Hazel Budder's layered salad an' beside it home made slaw. I hope that is Sis Carpenter's slaw. She makes her own dressin' don't you know. Oh, right there, big wedges of iceberg lettuce an' fresh made roquefort dressin'. I know someone is gonna have wilted lettuce, they just don't want it to sit too long, so they have to make it up hot an' fresh. They is no place on earth with better fresh vegetables than right here in Beloved, Kentucky, sure enough.

Well, I better move on to the table with meats an such before I get full from lookin'. There, I knew they would be fried chicken. I see 7 different kinds of fried chicken. See that bowl there? It's Sister Delly's chicken. She has a batter recipe I would give my right arm for. It is a big secret though. She won the County Fair with it 10 years runnin' before they retired her chicken an' made her the Fried Chicken Queen a year or two ago. Oh, Looky, looky...Uncle Billy has baked a whole country ham an' sliced it up right thin. Them is the beaten biscuits he makes sittin' there. Since his wife died he has been makin' 'em with her recipe. Chicken an' dumplins AND squirrel dumplins. There is a city ham for folks don't like country ham. Cain't 'magine who that would be though. Oops, almost missed the chicken fried steak an the big ol' bowl o' milk gravy sittin' by it. Whew, looky at the plate o' sliced beef roast. Wait a minute, see there on the end? That kettle with them boiled hot dogs in it? Can you imagine? Don't even think about eatin' one o' them hot dogs. Yessum, I know it is terrible to bring hot dogs to a spread like this, but they is another reason ... Peanut Chappell brought 'em. Y'all don't want a thing he had hold of. Just you take my word for it.

Well, come on now, we got two tables to go. Green beans, fresh from the garden an' cooked long an' slow with ham pieces. Some folk still use salted jowl or fatback. I like them beans best. Gee oh, a bean pot full of baked beans. Now, them is good eatin'. Course over there is a big pan o' baked beans with bacon on top. Mashed taters with country gravy, sweet taters with mushmellers on top, sweet tater cassarole, fried irish taters, tater salads...four tater salads, one with bacon in it. Green bean cassarole, ham an' tater cassarole, squash cassarole an' stuffed zuchinni boats. Pickled beets, pickles o' ever' description. Little ones, sliced ones, big ones, pickled eggs, pickled baloney, pickled okra, even pickled green beans.

Well, better get a look at that there de-ssert table 'cause it will empty first. Chocolate cake, carrot cake, that there Mexican Fruit Cake Sister Budder makes an' ever'one has to have the recipe each year. She comes with copies run off on the mimeo machine 'cause she knows folks will ask. Apple pies, mock apple pies, apple pan dowdie, apple cobbler, peach cobbler, blackberry cobbler, blueberry cobbler, peach pies an' fresh, sweet peaches peeled an' sliced. Pecan pie, shoofly pie, sugar pie, lemon pie, vinegar pie. Strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream. There it is. Looky yonder in the middle, a home made chocolate pie. I don't know who brings that 'un, but I am gonna cut me a piece now an' get the recipe before I leave this here church today.

Well, youngin's, we done missed the card table set up with home made bread, biscuits, cornbread, Mexican cornbread with hot peppers an' cheese in 'er, big ol' yeast rolls, them twisty crescent rolls, breadsticks with butter an' garlic powder sprinkled on top. I reckon that's my diet, missin' the bread table!! Don't you'uns go spreadin that I am on a diet. I just am a watchin' what I eat.

Oh, Lordy, we best go in an' start a prayin' for our sinful ways right now, cause I just got some gluttony flung on me!!!

How Cousin Peanut got his name

Actually that is an interesting...and factual story.

Vergie and Mz. Chappell had several children, five to be exact. They were simple folks without a lot of education. That is not to say that they were dumb. No sir, they were smart and inventive folks.

Back when Vergie was younger he invented the cotton gin. Not the machine for combing cotton, it was a drink made with cheap washtub gin that made you feel all fuzzy and bleached your mouth white. He also invented a substitute for margarine. Actually it was petroleum jelly with a little salt and flour and sawdust mixed in, but it was filling on store bought white bread.

Well anyway, back when Ms. Chappell was rearin' youngin's they weren't real creative and didn't have much book learnin'. Vergie's brother, Constantinople Chappell had his youngin's before Vergie and Ms. Chappell started and had taken all the good Bible names, like Baltheshazar, Abednigo and Selah. Why, he even named his mule Isme. That mule was a worker. It wouldn't want to stop onct it started plowing. You could hear Connie (that's what we called Constantinople) in the field, trying to get that mule to stop plowin', hollerin' "Whoa Isme!"

So when Ms. Chappell started having youngin's, she didn't have a stack of names for 'em. That's where Beulah comes into the story. Beulah was the local midwife and granny woman. She birthed babies, made healin' potions and sometimes hexed folks for the right cause and a little pocket change or some fresh vegetables from your truck garden.

When she delivered the first Chappell baby, Ms. Chappell didn't know what to name it, so Beulah helped and named him Chester N. Chappell. Even went to town...my home town of Beloved, Kentucky and registered the birth at the courthouse. Did the same for the other kids; Walter N. Chappell, Hazel N. Chappell, Brazil N. Chappell and Phineas N.Chappell.

For years no one thought much about it till some Collinses started beatin' Phineas up cause a' his name. He had enough and high-tailed it to Beloved and asked the clerk to look up his birth certificate and see what his middle name was. He figured he'd rather use that than Phineas.

The clerk, another cousin of mine on the other side of the family, Lucinda Carpenter, checked and told him his middle name was Nutt. Yep, he was a Nutt from birth.

He couldn't believe what his earbones was hearing. Nutt. Nutt! Nutt? What kind of name was Nutt?

Lucinda laughed and asked him if anyone round Little Jabez Holler, where the Chappell clan had lived since the 1840's, had ever asked Beulah what her last name was. 'Course no one did. They just called her Mz Beulah for respect.

Come to find out her last name was Nutt. Her late and much beloved husband was Ephriam Jubal Nutt, famed moonshiner and ne'r-do-well that got the attention of the local media (the Manchester Enterprise and WWXL radio) when he shot it out with the Revenuers there in the old abandoned outhouse behind the Henny Penny Broasted Chicken Restaurant and Pool Hall. Bessie Bowling saw the whole thing.

She was so shocked she tripped as she was skating an order out to Jim Bob Sizemore. Broasted Chicken flew everywhere and she went a slidin' under a 1957 Chevy Bel-Aire convertible. She slid so far under all you could see was her roller skates. She laid under that Chevy and watched the whole thing.

It took 859 shots to get Ephriam Jubal Nutt. The law was aimin' at the top part of the outhouse. Little did they know Nutt had snuck down to the bottom of the old abandoned outhouse and was just stickin' his head up through the seat to fire a shot every now an' then. They finally got wise and commenced to shootin' low and got him.

No one wanted to go down an' get him so they buried him right there.

So when Beulah's man was buried, she swore the world would remember him. She then proceeded to give every child she birthed the middle name of Nutt when she registered the birth at the courthouse.

So, Cousin Phineas Nutt Chappell decided to use his first initial and middle name. P. Nutt Chappell. Sounded kinda hi-falootin'.

And his brothers and sister? Yessir, you got it, Walter is known as Wal Nutt. Then there's sister Hazel Nutt and brother Brazil Nutt Chappell. 'Course Hazel don't get razzed as much since she married the preacher of the Booger Holler Holiness Church, Brother Woodrow Wilfred Budder. Yep, folks round Booger Holler show respect for Sister Hazel Nutt Budder.

Thanks to the legacy of Ephriam Jubal Nutt and his loyal wife Beulah, there are Nutts all over my home town of Beloved, Kentucky. Every time you turn around you'll see a Nutt. Why, some of my best friends are Nutts.

Over the years, P. Nutt was changed to Peanut by folks who didn't know the rich legacy left all the Nutts 'round Beloved by Beulah. Of course, as town historian, I do remember and will keep these precious memories alive for another generation of Nutts.