Hello to all the good folks out there! Hope ya’ll all had a wonderful christmas and didn’t over celebrate the New Year. Me and my boy Enis, we had us a wonderful time! Seems that Enis has gone and found himself a new group of friends and he brought them nice young folks over for Christmas dinner. An odd bunch, they are. Cold as the dickens outside and they all drove up riding motorsickles. They was all wearing black leather jackets and gloves. Some of them young men had hair braided up that was longer than most women’s hair. But they was a nice bunch, real polite and fun to have around.

For Christmas dinner, Enis near ’bout bought out the local grocery store. We had us glazed hams, fried turkeys, roasted ducks and all the trimmings you could imagine! Enis even got some of them little bitty weinies in barbeque sauce to snack on while we waited for all the other goodies to finish cooking. Just as we was finishing up our wonderful dinner, them darn petards showed up again. I just don’t understand why they won’t let folks be. There we were, minding our own business, eatin’ our delicious food and having a grand ole’ time when those scrawny little nerds, that’s what Enis calls ‘em, started yelling and screaming that we was murderers and some such nonsense, throwing rolls of toilet paper all over in the yard and breaking my windows with rocks!

Well, Enis’s new friends are big healthy boys ’cause they eat meat, just like my Enis. That’s my boy in that picture. Just look how big and healthy he is! Well, they marched outside to run the petards off. When them boys got outside, the nerds got real scared and started yelling “bikers! bikers!” and tried to run off down the street. Enis and his new friends jumped on them there motorsickles and took off after those bad little people. Why, they looked like they seen a ghost or something, the way they took off runnin’. I don’t really know what a biker is, but them petards sure were scared of them!

It wasn’t long ’till I heard them motorsickles roaring back up to the house. It was the darnest sight I ever seed. There was a petard strapped to the back of each motorsickle. All them skinny little fellows looked white as a sheet. They sure do need to get some red meat in their bellies and plenty of sunshine. Well, once they was all back in the yard, Enis’s new friends made them scoundrels clean up every bit of paper and glass there was. Then they made ‘em rake the leaves up and burn the piles. After that, one big burly fellow had ‘em empty their pockets of all the money they had. That nice young man gave it all to me to pay for my broken windows. Before they let the petards go, they had my windows taped up so the cold air didn’t come inside. Why, they even washed my car! Then the bikers let ‘em go. I never seen people run away so fast.

After all the commotion had settled down, everyone came back inside for dessert. Enis explained that his friends are called bikers ’cause they ride them motorsickles and petards are scared to death of them. Seems that nasty ole Ingrid and her nasty people is always tormenting ladies in fur coats ’cause they don’t fight back. Ain’t ladylike to fight, mind you. Since those sweet ladies won’t fight back, peta just keeps picking on them. But peta don’t mess with bikers ’cause them biker people will whup up on them! They don’t start no fights but they don’t let ugly people push them around neither.

I hope Enis brings his new friends around more often. They sure was alot of fun to have around. Now, thanks to them, I don’t have to rake my yard this winter!

©SharonSoileau2009

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Hey Everybody! Old Enid here. I just wanted to drop in and wish everyone a happy holiday season and tell you about the wonderful Thanksgiving we had here in Sausage Hollow.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite days of the year, espescially since I came to my senses and quit listening to those Petards. Oh, the food is so good. I swear if you stand outside and inhale a deep breath you can just smell all the women of the world cooking up that savory meat. Old Enid is a pretty good cook herself, and I stayed up all night long getting ready for our Thanksgiving feast.

Enis showed up about 9:00 on Thanksgiving morning in his old Chevy truck. I knew it was him on account of how the thing farted and coughed all the way up the drive. He had the window down and was singing at the top of his lungs. See, we start getting ready for Christmas on Thanksgiving and Enis loves them Christmas carols. He likes to change the words up sometimes. The song he was a singing this morning was to the tune of Deck The Halls and went something like this:

Load the grill with fatty meat. Put it on a bun and EAT, EAT, EAT!

Oh that boy is something else. Now, I had told him to pick up a Turkey the day before. Ya’ll know that Enis is a little bit slow, so it should come as no surprise that right there in the back of his truck was a big old cage with a tarp over it. The thing under that tarp was making a lot of noise and didn’t seem too happy. Enis told me he traded an old chainsaw and two used tires for a big Tom Turkey. I just shook my head and went in search of my butcherin’ tools.

Now about that time I heard another vehicle coming down our road and almost fainted when I saw who it was. It was a van full of them PETA fanatics. Apparently they was somewhat disturbed by old Enid’s blog posts and decided to take matters into their own hands. Here they come with a big speaker on top of that van and shouting out:

“STOP! GIVE US THE BIRD!”

Well, I believe even Petards deserve a little courtesy so I did just like they asked and flipped ‘em off with both hands. Enis saw me and did it too. It must’ve made them mad ’cause they did what they always do when they get their panties in a wad about something. They came a barrelling off that van as nekkid as a flock of jaybirds. By the looks of ‘em I’d say it must have been about 40 degrees outside, ’cause the fellows was suffering from major shrinkage.

Well, I commenced to giving these lunatics hell. All this time Enis was fiddling with the tarp over the cage in his truck and just about then he got it undone. I was just about to go inside for my shotgun when I heard Enis scream. When he jerked that tarp the edge of it caught on the front of the cage and opened the door. That’s when Enis found out he’d been swindled ’cause the thing in that cage wasn’t no Tom Turkey. Not by a long shot. The thing in that cage was a half-crazed gander. For those of you who don’t know that’s a male goose. He lit off right in the direction of the Petards.

The old gander was mad as hell. He ran through Ingrid’s kids like they was bowling pins. Two of ‘em got bit in the butt. One of them tried to jump over the gander but someone should have told him it’s a good idea to wear clothes when you try to jump a gander. The gander dropped his head as the Petard sailed over and then took aim right at those shrunken marbles between his legs. I swear the whole town of Sausage Hollow heard that boy scream!

They all finally made it to their van and hightailed it out of there. Me and Enis laughed so hard and enjoyed it so much that we couldn’t bring ourselves to kill the old gander after the service he done us. So, we loaded him up in Enis’ truck and the three of us went to Foo Yang’s Chinese Restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner, the only place open. I had about seven different kinds of meat dishes. Yum Yum!

I hope all of you had a good Thanksgiving and wish you a very Merry Christmas!

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!

Whoo! I bet ya’ll thought old Enid had died on account of it’s been so long since I put up one of these posts. Well, PETA will be just thrilled to know that I’m still kicking.

Lordy, the Fall is here and another Summer is come and gone. I do love the summer. Big picnics with buckets full of greasy chicken, fishing at my little pond and catching them big old catfish. They sure do put up a good fight. That is until my filet knife gets a hold of ‘em. And, of course, there is working in the garden. Now, there’s one thing where me and them Petards agree. Vegetables are important. Can you imagine a big ribeye steak without ‘em?

But one of my favorite things about the summer is the rodeo. I bet you have one of them in your town, too. We have us a good ‘un here in Sausage Hollow (that’s where I live , don’t you know) and these young cowboys look forward to it all year long. Well, this year our little rodeo got spoiled by a bunch of nekkid Petards looking to make a protest. It was a sight like you never seen. They was a running to and fro outside the rodeo arena claiming that the rodeo was a cruelty to animals. You know, I didn’t see nobody protesting when old Shakes the rodeo clown got butted by a goat during the Goat Scramble. That was cruelty to clowns if you ask me! Oh shoot, I got sidewindered!

If Peta had it’s way we wouldn’t get to have no rodeo. That’s why they decided to protest ours. Mostly we all just ignored em. Mostly, I said. Right up until the bull riding event. I was a sitting right there behind chute number two and them Petards was right up under the grandstand singing the Barney song or something. About that time they brought out the biggest bull I’ve ever seen in my life and put him in the chute. The announcer said his name was Colonel Sanders, but he sure didn’t look like no kind old Grampa from the south. Colonel Sanders had a set of nuts on him that would have made Ingrid Newkirk green with envy. I bet hers ain’t near that big. My boy Enis says that Newkirk is really a man. I tell him that ain’t nice. He’s a little slow.

Anyway, Colonel Sanders is up there in the chute when all of a sudden one of them Petards jumps up as nekkid as the day he was born and refuses to let the cowboy get on the bull’s back. Now, ain’t no self-respecting cowboy gonna let a nekkid Petard get the best of him. That cowboy spat out a big old mess of tobacco and laughed. I think he may have been laughing at the nekkid guy’s….oh, Lord….tallywacker. Eating all them vegetables sure didn’t make his cucumber grow! Next thing you know about five cowboys grabbed the Petard and tossed him right up on old Colonel Sanders’ back. In a jiffy they had a bull rope wrapped around his hand and called for the man outside to open the chute! Out they went and what a show!

Colonel Sanders spun first to the right and then just as quick back to the left. That poor cucumberless boy went flying like frog legs out of a frying pan. He landed right in the front row on top of Myrtle Jones who was eating a foot long corny dog. The poor fellow was screaming and had his mouth wide open. He swallowed half of Myrtle’s deep fried treat. The whole place was laughing so hard they couldn’t start the rodeo again for fifteen minutes. When they did them Petards was long gone.

Peta wants to take away the rodeo. I hollar bullhockey on that one! Don’t let ‘em take yours away cause you might miss out on a lot of fun if some of the Petards show up.

We might even let you borrow Colonel Sanders!

©SharonSoileau2009

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!