”Bubba, what was in that turkey?” I asked to change the subject as I picked my teeth with a straw.
“Nummer four shot, I think.”
“No, in the dressin’.”
“Maude made it, so I ain’t got no idea. I’d ‘magine dressin’stuff.”
Ben suddenly said, with very loose association, “I heerd tell them Yankee’s started the Thanksgiving Holiday. Read it in the ‘Possum Holler newspaper the other day.”
“I don’t believe that one a-tall,” Bubba replied with a serious voice. His pipe was going and he looked very relaxed, for Bubba.
“I heerd the same thang, oncet, in school. Only, I didn’t give it no never mind,” Bobby Dale said most likely just to be part of the group. His ball cap was leaning back on his head and his right cheek was packed with chewing tobacco.
“No, it’s true. I did some research on it in college,” I had to add my dimes worth.
“The paper said the first pilgrims were not really pilgrim’s a-tall. Gave some nonsense ‘bout ‘em bein’ called the chosen people or some such nonsense like that,” Ben gave a big smile as soon as he had spoken. His gesture seemed to add creditability to his non-believe of the newspaper.
“Ya talkin’ bout the first Thanksgivin’ way back when?” Bubba leaned forward in his chair and looked very interested in the conversation now.
“Yup, they said it was a time of shootin’ matches, games, a-drinkin’, and all sorts of a-carryin’ on like ya ain’t neveh seen a-fore.”
Bobby Dale’s eyes grew wide, he leaned over the porch railing and spat a long brown stream of tobacco juice before he said, “That paper’s got ‘em a Yankee ree-porter, is what’s happened.”
“Mule droppin’s Bobby Dale. It just goes to prove you cain’t read all ya see in print, less it’s in the National ‘Quirer.” Bubba spoke as he puffed his pipe. He, believe it or not, actually looked intelligent with the pipe going.
“I think ya mean believe, not read Bubba,” I corrected.
“Read, believe, it don’t matter, ‘cause ya knew what I meant.”
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