th1b.taylor
Member
p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120%; }
The Traveling Salesman, as they appear prone to do, roke down, across the Hay Field, on the highway, close to the Farmer's Homestead. He got out of his truck, popped the hood of his 1956 Ford F100 and looked and fiddled until he figured out what was wrong.
Needing tools he hiked the quarter mile over the field of Hay and arrived just as Geoge, 66 years old, came out the door. After a friendly exchange George asked the young man what his purpose for the visit was and the Salesman explained, “My '56 Ford, and he pointed, is broke down but if you will loan me a Flat Tip and a Monkey Wrench, I can fix it in about five, do you have them to loan?”
The farmer, George, explained, “If you will foller me over to the Tool Shed I'll certainly do that!” They set out to make the two hundred yuard journey and the Salesman asked, “On the way across your Hay Field, I saw a three legged hog, do you know about what happened to him?”
George stopped, turned toward him and answered, “Why of course I do, that Hog, Jeffry, is my, all time, favorite piece of Live Stock on the place.” George continued, “Now you need to be patient because this is the most remarkable story you are ever going to hear.”
He continued, “Just three weeks ago my son was drowning in that stock tank, right there,” he pointed, “and to only person to see it was Jeffery, that hog. When my boy got all tangled up in those green vines that grow all over the top of the ponds, Jeffery dove into that pond, swam out to the boy, chewed every one of those vines off him and pulled him, by the hair of his head, to the bank where he pulled him ashore, rolled him over, bounced up and down on his chest until he pumped all that vile water out of his lungs... savecd his life
Te young salesman, almost spitting, sputtered, “What... in the world... does that have to do.” George stopped him, holding up both hands as he said, “Now son... please son, patients. I told you this is the most remarkable true story you are ever gonna hear.”
George continued as the young man's head drooped, just slightly, “Why just two days ago I was ready to turn my Okra Field and I backed my Massey Ferguson up to my Seven Bit. As I was hooking it up, like an old fool, I left the engine, one really good diesel motor, running with the transmission in Neutral. Just as I slid that third pin in, I hear the shifter bouncing around, it slid into reverse, trapped me under the Left Drive Tire... the motor stalled ad it was crushing me to death... I could not get a single breath of air.”
“That hog, Jeffery,” George was yet to be out of breath, “climbed up on top of the last tines and now mind you, with hooves, climbed the Super Structure 'til he got to the top. And when he was there he lepted from there to the metal seast, where he woulda' slipped off 'cept he might near run his nose through the steering column and steadied himself.”
Then, without stoppin' he began,” and George balled his right fist, pounding it into his left, “to head butt that stupid gear shift, 'til it bounced into Neutral, the tractor rolled forward... off my chest... saved “my” life.”
The salesman, red in the face and almost jumping up and down screamed, “What the Hell does have to do with that hog having three legs?”
George dipped his head, pulled his cap offf with his left hand, ran his right hand through his hair, kicked the loose Sandy Lome, spat tobacco juice, shook his head and looked into his eyes, saying, “Son, now surely son, you wouldn't eat a hog like that more than one ham at a time!”
The Traveling Salesman, as they appear prone to do, roke down, across the Hay Field, on the highway, close to the Farmer's Homestead. He got out of his truck, popped the hood of his 1956 Ford F100 and looked and fiddled until he figured out what was wrong.
Needing tools he hiked the quarter mile over the field of Hay and arrived just as Geoge, 66 years old, came out the door. After a friendly exchange George asked the young man what his purpose for the visit was and the Salesman explained, “My '56 Ford, and he pointed, is broke down but if you will loan me a Flat Tip and a Monkey Wrench, I can fix it in about five, do you have them to loan?”
The farmer, George, explained, “If you will foller me over to the Tool Shed I'll certainly do that!” They set out to make the two hundred yuard journey and the Salesman asked, “On the way across your Hay Field, I saw a three legged hog, do you know about what happened to him?”
George stopped, turned toward him and answered, “Why of course I do, that Hog, Jeffry, is my, all time, favorite piece of Live Stock on the place.” George continued, “Now you need to be patient because this is the most remarkable story you are ever going to hear.”
He continued, “Just three weeks ago my son was drowning in that stock tank, right there,” he pointed, “and to only person to see it was Jeffery, that hog. When my boy got all tangled up in those green vines that grow all over the top of the ponds, Jeffery dove into that pond, swam out to the boy, chewed every one of those vines off him and pulled him, by the hair of his head, to the bank where he pulled him ashore, rolled him over, bounced up and down on his chest until he pumped all that vile water out of his lungs... savecd his life
Te young salesman, almost spitting, sputtered, “What... in the world... does that have to do.” George stopped him, holding up both hands as he said, “Now son... please son, patients. I told you this is the most remarkable true story you are ever gonna hear.”
George continued as the young man's head drooped, just slightly, “Why just two days ago I was ready to turn my Okra Field and I backed my Massey Ferguson up to my Seven Bit. As I was hooking it up, like an old fool, I left the engine, one really good diesel motor, running with the transmission in Neutral. Just as I slid that third pin in, I hear the shifter bouncing around, it slid into reverse, trapped me under the Left Drive Tire... the motor stalled ad it was crushing me to death... I could not get a single breath of air.”
“That hog, Jeffery,” George was yet to be out of breath, “climbed up on top of the last tines and now mind you, with hooves, climbed the Super Structure 'til he got to the top. And when he was there he lepted from there to the metal seast, where he woulda' slipped off 'cept he might near run his nose through the steering column and steadied himself.”
Then, without stoppin' he began,” and George balled his right fist, pounding it into his left, “to head butt that stupid gear shift, 'til it bounced into Neutral, the tractor rolled forward... off my chest... saved “my” life.”
The salesman, red in the face and almost jumping up and down screamed, “What the Hell does have to do with that hog having three legs?”
George dipped his head, pulled his cap offf with his left hand, ran his right hand through his hair, kicked the loose Sandy Lome, spat tobacco juice, shook his head and looked into his eyes, saying, “Son, now surely son, you wouldn't eat a hog like that more than one ham at a time!”
