Sunday, November 29, 2009

Shots Fired! ...


Ever since Grandpa DooLittle swilled too much hard apple cider, which triggered his frightening run in with the Devil out in the barn, Grandpa decided to move his remaining supply of cider and a fresh batch of homemade elderberry wine into Luther DooLittle's barn for safe storage ... and for safer sippin' ... and he reckoned he had the perfect plan for doing just that ... Grandpa had recently sold a truckload of hay to Luther, and planned on hauling it over to Luther's place on his old, barely road-worthy flatbed truck, which he had already loaded beyond capacity with hay ... just beneath the wooden bed of the truck, between the metal frame and the exhaust pipes, were hidden two stone jugs containing what was left of the hard apple cider, along with twenty-two, one-gallon plastic milk jugs filled with the homemade wine ... Grandpa DooLittle knew that Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter would be lurking somewhere alongside the highway near the foot of the long grade that wound up the side of Snipe Mountain, usually hidden behind the big Sunbeam Bread billboard ... motorists would either coast downhill too fast, or try to get a running start uphill, so it was Sheriff Clarence's favorite spot for a speed trap ... more importantly, Grandpa didn't want Grandma DooLittle to know anything about the transfer of the spirits, she thought Grandpa had sworn off drinking and dumped everything he had into the trough with the hogs' slop ... so the old man waited until sunset, and departed under cover of darkness.

It was an uneventful trip as Grandpa motored along careful not to exceed the posted speed limit or make any illegal maneuvers with the unsteady old truck ... as he neared the base of Snipe Mountain he thought about building up some speed to make it easier to climb the grade, but the overloaded, vintage machine wasn't capable of such, not with that heavy load of hay even if he'd tried, so Grandpa downshifted a couple of gears lower and let the truck grind up the hill at its own pace ... with no sign of Sheriff VanMeter anywhere ....... until Grandpa heard the screaming siren and saw the flashing blue lights behind him ... he wondered why in blue blazes the Sheriff would be stopping him, he couldn't think of any immediate laws that had been broken ... then he remembered ... the truck's taillights ... they never had worked! ... so Grandpa pulled to the side of the road, knocked the truck out of gear, set the parking brake and waited as the Sheriff's big V8 pulled up behind him.

Well, Sheriff VanMeter climbed out of his car and slowly approached Grandpa's truck, ticket book in hand ... the Sheriff had known Grandpa all his life, and intended on letting him off with just a warning ... just as Clarence walked up even with the rear of the truck -- one of those plastic jugs filled with wine, which had heated up and expanded due to the tremendous heat from the truck's exhaust pipes, along with the natural fermentation process -- exploded! ... BOOOOOOOMM! ... ol' Clarence ran back to his car, grabbed the mic from his antiquated Motorola police radio and yelled "Shots fired! ... Shots fired!! ... Bring help!!! ... then he pulled his pistol and took cover by belly-flopping right there on the ground beside of his car ... he couldn't imagine why in the world Grandpa DooLittle would be shooting at him like that ... over taillights that never had worked! ... then those other jugs started popping ... Booom! .. booom! ... boom booom booooomm!!!

Grandpa DooLittle couldn't imagine why on earth Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter would be shooting at him like that either ... over taillights that never had worked! ... so he sprawled out across the seat and took cover ... BOOOOOOM! .. BOOOOOOOMM!! ... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!!! ... now Sheriff VanMeter's only Deputy, and first cousin Cletus A. VanMeter had heard the Sheriff's broadcast over his two-way radio, but those army surplus radios had always been hard to hear and transmitted more static than anything else rendering them nearly useless ... so Deputy Cletus had misunderstood, and thought the Sheriff had said that he was "Hungry and tired! ... Hungry and tired!! ... Bring lunch!!! ... so Cletus had taken his good ol' time getting there with cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes he'd picked up from the diner on the way.
In the meantime, after all twenty-two plastic jugs had finished emptying their contents onto the side of the highway, a steady stream of warm, red elderberry wine had oozed down the shoulder of the road and drenched Sheriff VanMeter who had been lying there on the ground during the "shootout" ... when Clarence realized that he was lying in a pool of warm liquid, he switched on his flashlight to discover that it was a bright red, warm substance, well he thought he had been shot and forthwith passed out! ... when Deputy Sheriff Cletus A. VanMeter finally arrived on the scene with the burgers and shakes in hand, he found Grandpa DooLittle shaking like a leaf and slumped across the seat of his truck ... twenty-two empty plastic jugs along with a pool of fresh homemade elderberry wine spilled all over the side of the road ... and most shockingly unbelievable was the sight of his cousin and boss Sheriff Clarence A. VanMeter lying there face down on the ground drenched in elderberry wine ... and passed out cold! ... Cletus shook the daylights out of ol' Clarence in an attempt to wake him from his stupor, but the Sheriff appeared to be skidded beyond repair ... Cletus stood up, peered down at one of the most upstanding and respected men in the entire county then said ... "Clarence A. VanMeter ... you might be my cousin and the High Sheriff ... it's no great surprise that Grandpa DooLittle is lying over there three sheets to the wind ... but you ought to be ashamed of yourself ... drinkin' on the job like that ... you're a lawman for cryin' out loud!"


--sja

4 comments:

nothingprofound said...

Smooth storytelling. I really like the words you use and how you use them.

sja said...

Thanks again Nothingprofound ... reckon I write like I talk ...

BOB said...

Indeed!

"I really like the words you use and how you use them" ... good thing the already Southern Jackass has holes in his hat!

I keep telling him that I have to look up all them fancy words he uses ... which is a mite truer than I would like to admit ...

Good story young man ... as always!

Carol said...

Sunbeam bread - what a memory.