It's early evening on the first day of August, down in Georgia. It's sticky as usual but not burning hot and, after supper, El Solo Lobo is in the porch swang, Rebel Lobo sets the rocking cheer a-going and over the sounds of the crickets they ruminate on the day...
El: Yeeeeeah, hit were a good day. Had some o' mah lady friends come by to chat.
Reb: "Yeah? Where was I?"
El: Oh, who knows Reb, hell YOU don't even know where you are half the time.
El: Lesseee, they wuz one from Alarbammer - she had a operation -, one from that Indian nanner, and one way up air in Minny Sody.
Reb: "How'd they git here?"
El: Well they wahdden here in the flesh, so to speak, goober, they wuz here on that net line thang... Innernet, they call it.
Reb: "I thought you put me on nat thang and I don't hardly ever see noboby."
El: Well, what can I tell ye, Reb, ye gotta be a little more outgoing, do a blog sometimes.
Reb: "We already got most o' the log done, till the saw broke... why you lookin' at me lack at?"
El: I ain't talkin' 'bout no log, you nerfball, I said BLOG... one o' them thangs where you write down stuff ye been thankin' about.
Reb: Ever time I try to write sumpin' it sneaks off outtin mah head fore I can snag it and throw it down there. (lip quivers)
El: Aw, now Reb, don't let ye butter slip off yer biscuit, it'll be ok. It'll hit ye once in a while, and then ye jest start writin' like they ain't no tomorrow, cawse one day they won't be.
Reb: (looks doubtful)
El: Now, lessee, I learned ol' Jimmy done lost his religion... well part of it anyway. That'd prolly make ol' Billy laff like a hyeener.
Reb: "Whirred he lose it at?"
EL: (looks sideways at Reb) Well, I rekkin it fell in a manhole er sumpin' and went a fer piece cawse he wrote about it on one o' them Awstralyen newspapers. Said he was leavin' the Southern Baptist Convention after 60 years.
Reb: "They havin' a convention?"
El: Thass jest what they call the thang, Reb. Yeah they have conventions all the time too, like Jehovah's Witnesses and Shriners.
Reb: That Awstralya... that way on south ain't it, even past Flaridy, way down on the bottom side o' the ground?
El: Yeah, that be hit, where they have them great big ol' rats they call kangaroos.
Reb: "Well, it seem funny he wanna leave the south and then go as fer south as ye can git to write about it."
El: Sometimes ye make me real tarred, Reb.
Reb: "You tawk nice to them lady friends o' yorn?"
El: I always try to talk nice, Reb, 'specially to lady friends. Ye know I was making supper too - that mac and cheese and hamburger thang - and I did tell one of them I was gonna stir me burger with me noodle. I couldn't see her, but I'm purty shore she looked at me funny. Hope she didn't thank that was too much.
Then they wuz one o' them atheist fellers in that Indian nanner, what sued the town to make 'em let him put a sign on the busses. Said somethin' like "You don't have to believe in God to be good".
Reb: "Why'd he do that?"
El: Ye know how you don't not beat on ol' Tucker just cawse ye skeered Santa Claus won't bring ye nuthin'? Well, it's like that, he's just sayin' to be good cawse it's good to be good.
Reb: "Sandy Claws, (snort) I ain't never seen me no flyin' deers."
(in other places this might be a pregnant pause, but on the porch it's just a pause.)
Reb: "You know what else I ain't seen... er, heered? A hyeener laff."
El: Ye heered ye aint Myrteel, ain't ye? Kinda like that only a bunch of 'em. Peel the hide off a fellers ears and make him deef fer two days if he git close enough.
El starts to say something to Reb but feels the floor vibrate and knows Reb's done fell out asleep.