The Redneck Story Cupboard

For the last two days we've been splitting our firewood for the winter. While my husband and son do all the heavy lifting, I work the lever on the splitter, which leaves a lot of room for my mind to wander down "what if" paths. With visions of Horror movies and politicians dancing through my head, my mind drifted towards "redneck" ideas. What? You don't think politicians qualify? The politicians in our area have been talking trash and getting caught with their pants down around their ankles forever, sounds like a redneck to me :)

Anyhoo....here's a few ideas from the redneck horror/crime/noir story cupboard.

First off, all those long splinters of wood and no safety glasses - yeah, I was seeing sticks in the eyeballs and hearing my mother yelling, "You're going to poke somebody's eye out."

And I wondered how far the blood and brains would fly if a guy got his head caught in the splitter.

Which led to wondering which is the better place to hide a body, in the wood pile or in the stone quarry rubble?

Of course, I'm also wondering which would sound more like a squealing pig? The hydraulic plunger that can't go any farther or Uncle Joe with his finger caught between the plunger and a block of wood?

Drifting further down the redneck path, I imagined a keg of beer tossed into the mix. Now, I've got snot blowing contests, I can piss farther than you contests. Then this voice says, "You ain't got the brains God gave a rabbit, boy. Makes me wonder if my brother, Ralston, was diddling in your Ma's ditches."

The answer? "You got so much brains, prove it. Stick your head in the splitter and we'll crack your skull open and have a look-see"

A few minutes later. "Yep, the old man was right. He's got a helluva lot more brains than me, ain't no point in checking my skull."

Getting bored with the wood splitter scenario I drifted into the woods. And hey, there's two guys in a pickup truck with a mauled body in the bed. And I hear, "Man, I thought Brother Jacob was nuts chaining that bear out back of the meth house. Hell, he makes a better watch dog than poor old Rufus ever did. I reckon the sheriff was hard pressed to get a shot off before that old bear grabbed him. "

"Yeah, I'd say that bear put an end to his snooping, and with him being bear mauled, ain't none of us can be blamed for him dying."

Happy Halloween, everyone! Feel free to drop a redneck horror story idea in the comments if you'd like. And bewere the trick or treaters, especially if you're traveling through hill country tonight.