Guest Post: The Quest for The Ultimate Man Cave Prize
My brother, Ray, has kindly allowed me to print a true story that he wrote to illustrate the extent of his "redneckness" (new word I just made up!). I cannot wait to share this with all of you! And without further ado:
Not the actual one, but probably pretty close!
Not long ago I visited an old buddy in South Carolina by the name of "Pete".
Pete had just bought a new house and was showing me the room he would be
making as his "Man Cave". Pete went in detail about how he would display
his trophies and how he would place a pool table in the center of the room.
As he talked he told me how he had seen a stuffed possum hanging over a pool
table in a bar in Auburn, Alabama (Go Figure). He really wanted one for his
man cave. Being a really sensitive, manly man, I procured him one "road
kill" and had it stuffed. He was ecstatic when I gave the stuffed possum to
Latter I began to ponder on the whole matter. Pete having a stuffed possum
in his house was truly unique and probably made him a bigger redneck than
me. What could I do to best him?
A few weeks ago I was traveling from New Orleans to Alabama along with my
blushing bride. While passing the Honey Island Swamp (known for the Honey
Island Swamp Monster, Bigfoot, that supposedly has been spotted there), I
passed a recent road kill bobcat. Those of you who hunt know seeing a
bobcat in the woods is rare and I have always wanted to stuff one for my
"Man Cave". The next interstate exit was some miles down the road so I was
forced to cross the median, jump a ditch, go back past the bobcat, jump the
median again. Needless to say the SUV was my wife's and she loudly informed
me it wasn't my truck and I would never be allowed to drive it again. I
jumped out of the SUV and looked the bobcat over. It had met its demise not
too much earlier and in my estimation there wasn't a great deal of blood and
innards spilled. I quickly ran back to the SUV to retrieve a plastic sack
and found the only sack we had was a large gift paper sack loaded with my
wife's shopping deals she had bought in New Orleans. Quickly dumping her
items in the back seat I loaded and retrieved the bobcat "in the paper gift
sack". Upon loading the prize into the back of the SUV on top of my
wife's suitcase, I noticed she was hiding and had slid down low in the seat
just in case a passerby who happened to know us traveled past. Getting back on
the interstate, she began making several derogatory comments about the smell.
Not wanting to hear her complain for the next 300 miles I explained we would
stop at the next exit and buy a cooler, ice, and plastic sacks.
At the next exit, I pulled into the gas pumps and asked her to go inside and
buy the needed items. Of course I had to ask her not to complain to
everyone in the store about what her "Crazy Husband" was doing. When I
finished filling the SUV with gas I drove to the side of the store. The
store was quite busy, but most of the patrons weren't paying any attention to
what I was doing. My wife came outside with the items and I asked her to
hold the plastic bag open while I placed the bobcat in the sack. As I went
to the rear of the SUV, I suddenly became aware of a slight miscalculation.
You can imagine what a dead bobcat, complete with blood and spilled innards,
does to the bottom of a paper gift sack. As I picked the paper gift sack
up, the bottom fell out, the bobcat bounced off her suitcase, down my legs,
and onto the parking lot. I then began to attract some attention. Most of
the patrons stopped and stared. The women had a shocked look on their face,
but I suspect the men were taking copious notes in case they were presented
with the same scenario. Anyhow, I picked the bobcat up and placed it in the
plastic sack my wife was holding and then iced the prize down in the cooler.
Since I was wearing shorts, I was forced to go back to the gas pump and use
the windshield washer squeegee to clean my legs. After this I jumped back
in the SUV and quickly went back out on the interstate.
I eased back in the seat, smugly smiling at a job well done. Looking to my
spouse and wanting to tell her how lucky I was to get the bobcat, she began
to loudly inform me how this whole act had undoubtedly been the dumbest,
grossest, most redneck thing she had ever seen me do. Knowing I would
never hear the end of it, I knew I must think of a reply quickly.
My response was she really didn't have any grounds for complaining as she
was a part of the whole debacle. "She held the sack".
I hope you have enjoyed his guest post. I am hoping I can convince him to write a few more for me. He's got plenty of these stories!!
Thanks for stopping by and getting buzzed!