Re-post....

.... The Missus has requested bbq'd pulled pork sandwiches and my garlic baked beans for dinner tonight..... and since I have been a complete slacker today and not posted, I figure that it is just about time to start mining the archives.... hey, content is content, yes?.... besides, I've got to go and cook dinner..... so here's one from late-January 2006..... (and yes, I wish that I were at the blogmeet in New Jersey instead of standing around here stirring beans..... ) .... I hope that you enjoy.....

... last night was spent tossing and turning... two distinct dreams woke me in the early hours... around five, the most erotic dream of my quiet, simple little life was experienced... mercy sakes.... I nearly had a damn heart attack.... I drank some water and had a cigarette as one does, and then returned to sleep...

... the second dream was more confusing... it involved an old barn that my Great Uncle owned... an ancient and weather-worn structure... bleached gray from years of enduring all-weathers, it stood at the edge of his tobacco patch beside a stand of hardwoods...it was tall and had a stone foundation... each end was open as to allow tractors pulling wagons to enter or exit from either side...

.... many was the day that I rode on the back of a tractor laden with thousands of pounds of freshly cut tobacco.. late August usually... hot sun and dust... hands caked with the sticky dried tobacco juice...

... once in the barn, all of us workers would take our places... climbing higher and higher into the rafters of the barn... stopping at our allocated places and balancing ourselves on the beams.... Then the tobacco would start moving... the man on the wagon would take a runner full of stalks and pass it to the first man... then up and up until the runner reached the top man... on and on this would be repeated until the barn was slowly filled - from top to bottom - with an entire field full of tobacco...

... the top man was probably fifty feet off the ground... I was always one rung below him... see, the higher you were, the less work you had to do... and as I was very young and the Top Man was very old, we took positions higher up.. lots of times I would hear his head thump the tin roof as he tried to straighten himself or swat a wasp... I'd laugh and he'd cuss... which ended up making me laugh even harder... (I wasn't old enough yet to be allowed to cuss)....

... anyway, the point of all this is to get to the dream... after all, if I could afford therapy, I surely wouldn't be writing and telling these stories to YOU people.... so, on to the dream...

... the guys on the wagon were acting up... they seemed to think that the Top Man and I were having it too easy... not pulling our weight, so to speak... but unknown to them, he and I had a problem...

... now, here are the mechanics of the situation... all of us, as we fill up our rows, are slowly backing up all the time... legs spread wide with our feet balancing on a old, slow-cured sapling that had been worn smooth by years and years of use... it was a precarious situation, to be sure.... but here is where it gets worse.... as we inched backwards, our backs were getting closer and closer to the other wall of the barn.... and it just so happened that a group of wasps had built their nest in the very top of the barn where the tin roof and wall met... the Top Man was backing up to the nest and he wasn't really too happy about it...

... so the guys down below are giving us grief... me and the Top Man were eyeball to eyeball with those wasps... the nest was a large one... about the size of a grapefruit... and it literally crawled with probably 150 red wasps...

... I asked the Top Man, since he had more experience, what we were going to do... he winked at me and said... "those fellers down on the wagon had better shet up... they're ˜bout to see why I'm REALLY the Top Man... but don't you worry about them bees, boy... we'll be just fine up here... "

.. I watched in amazement as he took off his battered John Deere baseball cap and gingerly turned himself around on the spindly rafters.... deftly holding on to the tin, he moved both feet to the same support, spun himself, and then balanced again facing the opposite direction... and in one movement, he cupped his baseball cap over the entire nest and squeezed it hard.... he pulled it away from where it was attached to the wall and then released it... as long as I live, I will never forget watching that cap fall... it was almost in slow-motion...

.... it was like watching Slim Pickens ride that A-bomb.. the cap dropping directly towards the wagon... the doe-eyed farmboys looking up at us and laughing....

... sheer pandemonium erupted when that cap hit the wagon.... grown men and boys leaped from the wagon as a cloud of pissed off wasps began swarming... hardened, tobacco-chewing workmen loped like schoolboys and screamed like girls...

... me and the Top Man... we watched it all as it happened... safely perched as chaos ensued...

... so here I sit this morning.. half a pot of coffee down me, and I still can't figure out why I dreamed of the Top Man... and I shudder to think of the wasps..

... goodnight, rubberneckers!....

by Eric on April 05, 2008 | Bullshit (5) | TrackBack (0) | Blogging
Bullshit So Far

You've reminded me of the old men on the dairy farm who'd, with their work callused hands, grasp the wasp nest that terrified me, and laughing, gently squeeze it till not a single wasp survived......then cast it contemptuously to the ground while looking me in the eye........never at their hand.

Bullshitted by kdzu on April 5, 2008 09:49 PM

Don't go to bed with a full belly. I dream about working again, what a bad dream.

Bullshitted by Catfish on April 5, 2008 11:31 PM

The Karaoke Queen and I roast pork butt for about 7 hours for our pulled pork sandwiches.

Do you make fresh cole slaw?

Recipes please.

Bullshitted by Shouting Thomas on April 6, 2008 07:41 AM

Puttin' in tobacco is a pure shit load of fun, is it not? Especially when the person passin' the stick up to you messes with you a little bit and won't let loose of the stick. You pull up on that stick and damned near pull yourself down to the ground...

I watched a scrap in a tobacco barn one day between my cousin, and a hired hand over a 5$ bet on whether the human body was made up of 80% water.

We never could drain one to find out, but they still fought over the 5$...

Bullshitted by RedNeck on April 6, 2008 08:42 AM

My excuse for not being in New Jersey is I'm on call, holding down the fort. A dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. I've tried to con other bloggers into doing it, but no takers. Dang.

Red, I'd wager the human body is 80% water, but the brain is something else. In some cases it's over 90% poo. Not mentioning any Project Managers in particular, unless you know of some likely candidates.

Bullshitted by Cappy on April 6, 2008 12:04 PM