Guess Who's Coming To Christmas Dinner?

Guess Who’s Coming To Christmas Dinner?

Yep… Uncle Burley, now how did ya’ll know?

Once Cousin Scooter had got big enough to run, he’d took to runnin’ a right smart with Uncle Burley. After all, they’s a lot a young feller could look up to in a well seasoned gen’aman like Uncle Burley. (Even if the seasonin’ was closer to pickled!). Why Burley knowed ever den tree on Hick’ry Flats and could spit durn near 20 foot without even a runnin’ start.

These self same talents, however was lost on Ol’ Lady Grimmandower, Scooter’s prim but stern mother. She had little use for Burley Gilli’n or his bad habits… until th’ weasels came.

Aunt Holly Grimmandower had waged many battles over th’ years to protect her fine coop of domineckers, not the least of which was that hushed up incident with Cousin Scooter… that never quite got hushed up. She’d whacked ‘possums with hoe handles, snatched up black snakes by th’ tail an’ ‘bullwhipped’ their heads off an’ once even stared down a polecat (an’ he ain’t never come back!). Weasels was differ’nt. They come an’ went an’ the only trace was a few neck feathers. They come in th’ night like hobo’s er Baptists an’ left with a fat hen. Aunt Holly’s stock of fryin’ pullets an’ layin’ hens was sufferin’ somthin’ fierce.

She tried to catch ‘em … stayed up many a night, just to have ‘em come the one night she didn’t. She’d fair wore the end off all th’ paper hulled 00 loads fer Pap’s ol’ double from a loadin’ an unloadin’ the venerable side by side 12 guage. Finally Cousin Scooter put into words what Aunt Holly had known for some weeks now….

“Maw… we gonna have to git Uncle Burley to trap them weasels.”

“I know son. I know… siiiiiiiigh … you skitter on over to that rascal’s shack an’ invite him up fer Christmas dinner. Reckon I’ll roast ya’ll a turkey. I’ll have a little crow to swaller. You tell him what I want him fer, an that th’ dinner’s hissin’ yea er nay… but if I know Burley Gilli’n, he’d tackle a griz’l bear with a switch fer a slice of punkin’ pie.” Dame Grimmandower was right, Burley sent word back that he’d be there an’ after dinner he’d have a little parlay with her over pie an’ coffee about them weasels.

As is fittin’ when in need, Dame Grimmandower met Uncle Burley at th’ door. Her watery eyed, French ankle biter Foo Foo peeped from beneath her full skirt and yapped … and yapped … and yapped……………

It was right much of a struggle, but finally Scooter’s pack of coon hounds were swarped, kicked and otherwise ‘persuaded’ to stay outside while Uncle Burley was ushered in … an’ Foo Foo had him. Right by the ankle.

“grr, grr, grr, grr…………”

” …no-no Foo Foo… bad girl… stop that!”

Foo Foo was in heat an’ Burley’s wooden leg smelled a lot like Spruce…perrrrrrfect place to leave a little … ‘er… invite …

“ FOO FOO… go to your box !”

“Well, good day Mr. Gillian. How good of you to come. Step into the dining room and take a seat whilst I fetch your supper.”

“Lands a Goshen, ma’am, hit shore smells good in hyear.” Burley’s mouth was waterin’ already.

Uncle Burley an’ Scooter pulled up to th’ dinner table an’ Aunt Holly went to th’ kitchen to bring in th’ turkey. Burley couldn’t help but notice th’ fine table Aunt Holly had laid out… particular’ the large shiny spoons…

Now Uncle Burley was right partial to spoons… ‘specially if they was played right… an’ he considered hisself fair to middlin’ ‘er maybe a might better… specially if he’d had a nip … which he had …

Folks the biggest difference in spoons marked “Made in Japan” an’ spoons marked “German silver” is probably ‘bout seven dollars a spoon, but smacked agin’ Burley’s wooden leg… boy did they ring! They sounded so good that as a broad smile broke across Burley’s scraggly jaw, he broke into an impromptu an’ highly animated, rendition of Jambalaya.

As Burley found his rhythm … with his good leg… Scooter commenced a ‘ife’n into his fist.

“eef a ife… eefa eefa ife… eefa eefa ife a ife”.

Slobbers not withstandin’ th’ boy was purty durn good!!! As he whopped the big leg of his bibs with his free hand, the two of ‘em let the music take ‘em. Burley was almost to “shoofly pie” an’ that was his favorite part… them spoons was fair hummin’,

trrrrrrrrrr ricky tic tic, tika, rickety, tic, tic, tika,tika,tika, trrrrrrrrrrrr tik…

Burley was a keepin’ time with his good toe and ‘jookin’ his head at the same time.

Foo Foo seen her chance……….

The hairy lil’ fuzz ball sneaked across Aunt Holly’s newly braided rug, sidled up to Burley’s wooden leg an’ squatted. As the trickle turned into a stream down the side of Uncle Burley’s brogan an’ began to puddle on the rug… Aunt Holly come through th’ door with th’ (German silver) turkey platter!

What she seen was Scooter (did I tell ya’ll what a fine boy he’s a turnin’ out to be?)… uh… what she seen was Scooter… head drawed plumb back twixt his bony shoulder blades, shakin’ all over, spittin’ an’ a slobberin’ at th’ mouth… bouncin’ on his chair and beatin’ hisself alternately about the legs and chest…

“eef a ife… eefa eefa ife… eefa eefa …eefa eefa … EEEFA iiiiiiiiiiiiife”

By now Burley was in that other place… the place where Jim Ed Brown, Maxine an’ Bonnie strived to go… th’ place Hank Sr. was a headin’ when his liver played out… th’ place Elvis seen once at the end of ‘Love Me Tender’…………… eyes rolled up in his head… ears laid back an’ them fine German silver spoons Dame Grimmandower’s gran’pa brung over on th’ boat was now all but in-a-visible as Burley ‘jooked’ an’ headed into the finale.

“Jambo-lie, shoofly pie an’ nanner puddin’………….”

“DEEEEEMONS!” Aunt Holly screeched, as th’ platter fell to th’ floor soundin’ like the symbols from the VFW Marchin’ Band. Th’ turkey splatted to the floor, ricocheted toward the wall and gathered up FOO FOO enroute.

Uncle Burley stopped playin’ right away… he needed both hands to hang on to the German silver chandelier above the table……….

Scooter’s chair turn’t straight over backridge an’ alls you could see of him was bony ankle bones an’ tenner shoes sticking up over th’ table.

All this took place whilst Aunt Holly was a fallin’ to a swoon…..

Doc Stokes’ place was at the mouth of the holler, so it didn’t take him long to get there. Onc’t he’d examined Aunt Holly an’ found nothin’ more serious than th’ vapors… he popped open his little bottle of smellin’ salts an’ she started to come around… first thing that met Aunt Holly’s blurred vision was the beautifully browned an’ basted Christmas turkey over in the corner. It was on it’s back, legs spread and appeared to be giving birth … FOO FOO was a breach! ! !

“DEEEEEEEEEEMONS ! ! !”

“… uh, here Dame Grimmandower… take another snort,” an’ Doc stuck th’ bottle under her nose agin.

Uncle Burley could see that she’d probably had enough entertainment for th’ night an’ quickly climbed down from the chandelier an’ excused hisself. He figgered things’d quiet down a might quicker if he wasn’t there when Aunt Holly was finally at herself. Probably was a good idee too… ‘cept Uncle Burley stepped out on th’ porch amongst 13 orn’ry coonhounds… with fresh Foo Foo all over his leg……….

…….. folks they was a ruckus in th’ holler that night … Uncle Burley should have a new leg whittled out an’ harnessed up come spring … Aunt Holly had Granny Wren in fer a day er’ two roust out th’ DEEEMONS … an’ Doc got the end of Scooter’s tongue, what he’d bit off laughin’ sewed back on purty neat …

…… hope your Christmas dinner turns out a might better.