Funny Country News from Hogspore Arkansas 12-2007

Here is the December 2007 news from Hogspore Arkansas brought to you by its leading citizen, Clet Litter:

12-04-2007

Morton Trubletoof is sooooooooooo stupid. He’s so stupid he could cross-thread a nail. He come running up saying he had his first internet order. Morton has a website what offers sandspurs fer sale.

“Clet, I don’t know what to do. I ain’t ever sold a sandspur before. I gone a year without a sale. All my sand spurs died bout two weeks ago.”

That was a bit troublesome to understand. I never had no trouble with sandspurs a dying in my yard. I tried to burn em out and they still come back. Morton must be extra dumb if he can kill sandspurs by accident.

Bout a month ago at the end of the drought of 07, his sandspurs were looking real good. Morton got to worrying bout them needing some water so he took to watering em every day. They couldn’t take all the love and attention. They just fell over and died.

That’s what happened to my Uncle Chill. His wife started treating him real nice and fixing him his special favorite suppers and he died from it all.

Now Aunt Bonita is up north doing life without parole fer that last supper she done up fer him. Uncle Chill finally found out what happened to that missing bag of rat poison that he never could find.

Course it was somewhat of a short period of revelation. From the time he knowed he’d been poisoned and that he finally found out what happened to the missing rat poison to the time when his head fell into his pudding bowl was bout 4 seconds.

Morton was standing there with his mouth open like it always is. When Morton’s wife throws a party, she keeps the tater chip dip in Morton’s mouth cause the onion dip stays so moist. It also keeps Morton from talking when he mingles with the party guests.

“Clet are you finished remembering what happened to your Uncle Chill and my wife’s onion dip, so’s you can help me now?”

I nodded and told Morton to come by later and he could have all the sandspurs he wanted from my yard. He frowned up like a baby with a colic tsunami wave running through him.

He sez, “I know what is agoing on. Now you got a cornered market on sandspurs, you gonna stick it to me with the price.”

“Morton, you is too smart fer me today. Come on by and get all of my sandspurs outer my yard. They will all be free.”

Morton dropped his mouth open and started smiling. Now there’s a special talent when you can have your mouth full wide open and still smile.

Bet some of you folks reading this are trying it right now. Open up your mouth real full like and then smile. I specially advise you go somewhere private in front of a mirror when you try it again cause there is some folks a watching you right now and wondering what special school you go to.

Last week, the barber’s chicken got into a roll of dimes and Rosetta ate every one of them shiny Roosevelt’s. Now there’s a daily lottery bout what time the daily dime will hit the floor. Tony takes 25% cause it’s his chicken.

Old Doc Mulley, the veterinarian placed a bet for 2:30 PM today. I believe he got some inside information from Rosetta.

Before Doc Muley left he told us what Rosetta’s diagnosis was. He sez, “Boys, I believe what we have here is a classic case of incointinence.”

I give a special note to my friend Michael Reisig, what owns this fine newspaper, that if he lets the spell check correct that last word “incointinence”, well then that last joke ain’t gonna be real funny. 

12-11-2007

Doc Mel Practice stopped my truck on the street to say Howdy and to inquire bout any more of Punkin’s blackberry jam left fer trading. I lied and told em No. Them preserves is just too good fer trading.

He asked bout my diet. I ain’t lost any more in the last two weeks. I showed him my diet logbook. I have it all graphed out with charts.

Doc Mel looked at my charts and sez, “Clet, I believe I can help you right now with yer diet, specially if you suddenly remember that you got an extra jar of Punkin’s blackberry jam.”

Well he had me hooked. I sez, “You know Doc, there might be an extra jar in the larder. I could let you have a jar fer a couple of house calls plus your diet advice.”

He agreed and give up his advice. “Clet, you gotta stop tracking your diet progress with pie charts.”

I throwed all them pie charts away and now I gotta find some more religion fer my diet.

I saw Hardy Barkins in the barbershop this morning. He sez, “I saw something yesterday that was more rare than an oncologist’s smile. I saw Junior Bickums down on one knee a proposing to Miss Sally Hawthorne.

You know, she’s Judge Hawthorne’s daughter and one of them debutante type gals. She come out last year. There was a party and all that down to the country club. After the party, I guess she went back in.”

I sez, “Wait till Judge Hawthorne hears bout this. Young Bickums is gonna be found in some kind of contempt fer something. The judge ain’t going to let Miss Sally marry down like that, even if she is fairly far down on the Hogspore pretty list.”  

Hogspore’s Christmas parade happens on December 15 this year. It starts in front of the oatmeal factory and ends up at the Courthouse in the Town Rectangle. Old man Grimely is gonna be Santa again this year … cause he’s supplying all the tractors to pull the floats.

He’s been right friendly now since last year’s chimney scare. He was a playing Santa. He tried to slide down the Courthouse chimney and got stuck.

He was caught up there fer 3 hours. It put a real damper on last year’s celebration. Nobody could figure out how to get em out till Ashton, the chimney sweep showed up. He took out some of the bricks and freed up old man Grimely. That’s when old man Grimely started appreciating life and being perlite and sociable to everyone.

Mayor Ringer got Ashton a big hero’s medal and he was given credit fer performing Hogspore’s first open-hearth procedure.

What with Christmas coming and shopping days a dwindling, I thought I’d pass on a few gift hints for the season. My wife Punkin needs some more canning jars and my coat size is Extra Burley.

Here’s a shopping tip from Mumford Pickens. “If you live in Alaska and you got to get your dogs some overcoats, they can wear anything in a Husky. Yukon take my word on it. Juneau what I mean?” 

I cut Mumford off at 3 jokes. He kept a going bout trying to keep his Berings Strait and Nome, Sweet Nome, but I was more than a block away by that time.

12-18-2007

It’s Bring-Your-Mule-To-Work-Day, appreciation day fer what our mules have done fer us all year and in Hogspore’s past.

Bout 5 years ago, there was a couple of Harvard college communist students here fer the summer doing research on the town’s founder, circuit riding Judge Aaron Rinseonce Hogspore.

Them students found out that the judge’s mule, Ringo, died right out from under him in the winter of 1865 and that the judge had built up a town right where Ringo had died. Them socialists thought it was just the funniest thing they’d ever heard of for a town to be raised up round a dead mule.

They said it would be Camp to have an annual mule appreciation day, and so they got the mayor to start one up. The Commies left. We never did find out where the Camp was they was talking bout, but Mule Appreciation Day took hold.

We all love our mules and we get to drink right out in the open on Mule Day.

The town historian Mumford Pickens told me more bout them early days of Hogspore. He said, “Before Judge Hogspore got here, he had been drafted into the Confederacy.

The young Hogspore had no political leanings at all cept he didn’t want to get shot. He was a constant volunteer fer bringing up the rear. He didn’t see much action after he caught the Black Mumps when he was in Rondo, Arkansas.

Bout 17 of the boys died from them Black Mumps. Young Aaron swell up right where a man tends to swell when he gets a good set of mumps. He couldn’t ride a mule for a long time. He never did get all the swelling down, so that’s why there was a lotta talk bout his persuasion when he come into town that fateful morning riding Ringo, sidesaddle.”

Mumford went on, “This was a time when families split up cause of divided loyalties. Sometimes, it would end up with brothers a shooting at each other.

There was the account of the Bentley brother twins, Raf and Neftor, who had served with Judge Hogspore. They was conjoined on their side. It turned out that Raf, the one on the right, was a spy for the North. When he got found out, he was set up fer the firing squad.

The whole Confederate regiment signed on for the firing squad. 450 of Tennessee’s finest rifleman lined up in front of the Bentley brothers.

They put on blindfolds on both brothers. Raf, cause they was gonna to shoot him, and Neftor, cause they didn’t think he wanted to see his brother killed. Somehow, the order got mixed up and all 450 of them long Tennessee rifles was aimed at Neftor, the good rebel.

Them lead balls tore the two brothers apart and Raf, the spy, was surprised to find himself still alive and shed of his brother. The dust was still rising when Raf reached down and switched up wallets with his dead brother.

When the dust settled. Raf, who was now Neftor, yelled that he was all right but that he was pure enough glad that the dead traitor was on his way to Purgatory for spying for the North. 

The new Neftor Bentley moved into Hogspore bout six months after Judge Hogspore set up the town. Neftor led a good clean life, went to church every Sunday, and always had a fat envelope for the donation plate when it was passed by.”

Mumford finished up. “Judge Hogspore never could come to like Neftor Bentley much. Just something bout Neftor that just didn’t sit right. Might have been them Black Mumps that Neftor never got over.”

12-26-2007

Agate Robbins’s been in church every Sunday this year a praying for some stylish clothes, a steady job, and a sturdy house. He’s been through 40 jobs in the last two years and nothing’s stuck. Well Sir, Agate weren’t in church this Sunday and here’s why:

First off, he wants everybody to know he’s doing good. In fact, he is plain outright doing the best he’s ever done.

The last Sunday that Agate Robbins was in church, Preacher give up a sermon on how we ain’t sposed to worry. Not worry bout what to wear or where out next meal is a coming from.

Preacher talked bout them Lilies of the field. It was from the book of Matthew, what comes right after the book of Festus. Preacher said to take a gander at them Lilies and how they growed up. Them flowers don’t do no work. They don’t worry bout what they’s gonna wear, cause they already look good, just from a being Lilies.

I visited Agate yesterday and here’s what he said he did, once he had received the Word. “I been worrying bout keeping a job and having some fine clothes so I could impress the ladies. After I heard Preacher last Sunday, I knowed what I had to do.”

I sez to Agate, “It appears that you might be somewhat touched, maybe even a little crazy.”

“Maybe so Clet, but here’s what I done:

I drove out to where Highway 71 crosses over Hogspore Boulevard. I climbed up the bank under the overpass and commenced to dig a big hole in the dirt up there.

When I had me a good size hole dug up, I climbed on in and starting piling the dirt back in, all the way up to my knees. I tamped the dirt down real good with my shovel and then I did what Preacher said to do.

I stood there buried up to my knees and tried to be just like them pretty Lilies.”

“How long did you stand there?” I asked.

“You know Clet, it weren’t but bout two hours before the sheriff’s car rolled up. He yelled up to me bout what was a going on.

I couldn’t move my feet to walk down to tell him, so I just shouted down that I weren’t worried bout what it looked like or what I was going eat tonight, cause now … I am a Lily.”

I got to say, Agate might not be so crazy. He don’t have to worry bout what to wear or what he’s a gonna eat or where he’s a gonna sleep tonight cause the nice folks at Happy Lily of the Valley Sanitarium are taking care of everything fer him.

This here is Bob Simpson with a little extra note from Clet Litter and all the fine folks from Hogspore.

Clet sez that since he has been a calling the news into me every week, it has made him real appreciative of his family and friends, even the ones that owes him money. So from Clet Litter, his pretty wife Punkin, all the kinfolk, and friends that go on forever, they all wish you some Happy Holidays and a very Happy New Year too.