Sometimes couples done learnt it's best not to be too straight wif' each other. Iffin' they wanna work thangs around to suit theyselves, often as not they learn the art of oblique negotiatin'. Won't me ter show ya how we does it?
It works like this:
We'uns have rule 'round heah that we doan NEVER put no political signs on the front forty. Partly because we doan wanna be egged or rolled ...
Another reason is that locally we have too many acquaintances runnin' after the same dog-catcher elected positions--half this county seems to be runnin' fer sherriff-- best to keep them aces in our hole, say Uncle.
Ha! Doan ya jes' love it when a man-folk breaks the rule he done set up in the first place?
See, the rule extends to bumper stickers on our buggy--or, at least on MAH buggy.
This is what I seen on Uncle's buggy bumper when went
to fetch the local gloom and doom sheet this mornin':
"Take them bumper stickers off" I said as
I handed him his half-gallon mug of coffee.
(yeah, thas' why Aunty is gettin' Carpel tunnel--it ain't from bloggin', it is from that Paul Bunyan mug.)
"Aw, shucks Belle...admit it--you laughed. Jes' the one time lemme have some fun."
Uncle: "Nope? No Fun? or nope ya din't laugh? Shore ya did. Listen, MissyBelle, you'd do well in this world iffin' ya'd jes' lighten up a tad. And wear some pink bloomers."
Me: "Doan even."
Uncle: "Wha'?" he smirks.
Me: "No 'Missy', thas' wha'. A rule is a rule.
An' I'se plenty light enough. " (Pink bloomers??? )
Uncle: "Now, Belle, this heah election season is gonna be a hum-dinger.
May as well wring a little fun from it!"
Me: "Ackshully, ya doofus,' this heah is a serious matter--
ain't NOBODY on neither side runnin' thas' worth a tinker's damn.
I cain't git no lightsome-ness out o' that."
Uncle: "Belle, is ya cussin', cause iffin' ya is then youse really vexed...wait!
Who youse callin' 'doofus'? "
Me: "Whoever it fits."
Uncle: "Doan make me no dinner. Think Jake an me will go fishin'
this afternoon--may spend the night at the camp. "
Me: "Works fer me."
Uncle mutters as he walks off toward the bird feeders,
"Polly-ticks ruints ever-thang it touches."
Now ya'll...doan worry none 'bout Uncle. He was itchin' to git on down to
the camp tonight, but he was feelin' too guilty to jes' go, since he's been thar
most weekends since huntin' season--- an' he doan wanna tell me he
is wishin' he could go, cause he thinks it will hurt mah feelin' iffin' he
doan stay round heah wif me. So I had to pick a wee lil' fuss wif' him
so he could go on down thar' wif'out feelin' his conscience naggin' him.
Besides, I got a Monday deadline and wanna finish up that BACK Porch essay
this weekend and Uncle gits riled when Aunty spends too much time on the blogs.
See? I could not say "I wanna spend the weekend workin' and bloggin" and Uncle could not say "I wanna leave ya and go off wif' the fellas to the fishin' hole"
....so we negotiated it v e r y obliquely.
Now we's both happy.
This heah is what is waitin' on him iffin' he ain't alert when he heads to the fishin' hole...look carefully, now.