Benton's Books

Sandy Claws

 

© Copyright, 2003, Gary L Benton

 Bubba and I were sitting at his kitchen table sharing a cold sweet tea.   While his wife and mine went shoppin’, we were to assemble the Christmas toys for the kids.  We had put together a small red wagon and did it in a real smart time, just a little over four hours.   Now, we were takin’ a much-deserved break. 

                “Dang, Mule, these toys are a-getting’ harder to put together each year.”  Bubba said in a frustrated voice as he raised his ice tea glass and took a big swallow.  I noticed he had beads of sweat on his forehead.

                “Yep, I would never have imagined a red wagon with anti-lock breaks, an OSHA required safety harness, and a computerized dashboard.  They jess didn’t make ‘em like that when we was a-growin’ up.”   I felt the same frustration Bubba Lee did.  I mean, here we were, two growed up men and we took four hours to put a toy together that was recommended for a child four years old.  What in the world was the matter with the two of us? 

                “Well, I ‘spect we would have done better if I had not be a-holdin’ the di-rections upside down until we was ‘bout done.”  Bubba admitted his mistake, which was as rare as a yankee banker loanin’ money without some of that collateral stuff.

                I watched Bubba take his last drink from the ice tea glass.  He got up, walked to the sink and put his glass inside.   He turned, gave me a big twisted grin, and pulled out his Deadman Chewin’ tobacco.  I watched as he packed his left cheek to the point he looked like my hamster would have, after placin’ a fifteen-pound turkey in his cheeks. 

                I was amazed as he turned to me and said in an almost clear voice, “Ya want a beer?”

               “Why shore, don’t mind if I do.  But it’s a bit early ain’t it?  I mean, it isn’t even ten in the mornin’ yet.”  I was a bit shocked that he would offer a beer that early in the day.   But then again, very little Bubba said or did ever really shook me up too much.

               “I never drink a-fore five in the afternoon.”  Bubba smiled once more, got up and walked to the clock hanging over the stove.  Taking the clock down, he adjust the hands until, you guessed it, it was five o’clock.

               “Well, now, Bubba, since hits five, shore, gimme one.”  I had to let out a chortle at the man’s imagination.  Only my cousin Bubba would do something like that and think nothing of doing it either.

                Bubba opened two beers and placed them on the table.  He then bent over and pulled a big box, containing the bicycle he had bought Bubba Junior for the Holiday, to his side.  He pulled the top flap on the box open, looked inside, turned kind of pale, reached over and picked up his beer.  Without saying even one word to guzzled about half of the drink.

               “Bubba, seriously man, it’s too early to drink like that.  What is goin’ on?”  I had to ask.  The man looked like JFK had just walked into the room.

               He looked me in the eyes and said, “Mule, do you ‘member grandpa Patton a-tellin’ us boys to always be smarter than what you was a-werkin’ on?”

             “Of course I do, Bubba, and he was right.  Why did you bring that up?”  I was getting more corn-fused as the conversation continued.

             “Well, to tell ya the truth, we is in oveh our heads with this heah bicycle.  Ain’t no way we can put this thang together.  It’s sad too, ‘cause I got one of the B.S. dee-grees and you to one of them Masters dee-grees.   And, I bet ya, neither one of us can figure these heah bike out.”

            Yep, you got a B.S. degree all right Bubba,  I thought as I walked over the container and pulled the directions out of the top of the box. 

            I went back to my chair, took a slight sip of my beer and turned to readin’ the di-rections fer a-puttin’ that bike together.  Take wheel #A and place it in slot #F, of rear frame #7, and screw on nut #46, over washer #C, and tighten with tool B, supplied with the parts bag.  I could follow it so far, but then there was a problem…..the language up to that point had been English.  I was confused now.  I felt like the dawg that peed on an electric fence, I just didn’t belong here anymore.

            “Bubba, my eyes must be a-goin’ bad.  This isn’t English is it?”  I asked as I pass the twenty-eight page instruction booklet to him. 

            Bubba looked at the page for a few very silent minutes before he said, “Nope, looks like Chinee to me, er, mayhap Arabic.  Whatever hit is, it don’t pay no neveh mind, ‘cause me and you cain’t read it anyways.”

            We dumped the parts of the bicycle out onto the floor of his kitchen.  For a long time neither one of us spoke.  Finally, after scratchin’ our head, opening another beer, we admitted defeat, “I ain’t gonna ‘tempt hit Mule.  I’m gonna give that greasy faced kid at Meral’s Hardware ten dollars to put it together fer me.  I figure he can use the money to buy some acne medi’kashun.” 

            We put the bike parts back inside the box and moved it over next to the bookcase with the lava lamp.   Over the next four hours we put together a dollhouse, an electric oven that cooked cookies, and a ball stand for a tee-ball set. 

            I was sitting there amazed at how little we had accomplished in the time the girls had been gone.  I mean, we were both educated, Bubba was a paid auto mechanic and own his own business, I was a professional writer, and we could not put some simple toys together for Christmas?  Finally, totally frustrated, I asked Bubba for another beer. 

            With fresh beers in our hands, we retired to the living room and turned on the telly-vision.  And, us being men, and you know how bad our luck is if you are a man, our wives took that exact moment to return home.

            “Ricky, I’m home!”  Maude yelled in her best Lucy imitation as she entered the mo’bile home. 

            “Lucy, don’t look now, but I think Fred and Ricky been in the beer.”  My wife Beverly had to say to show her disappointment in our behavior.

            “We are takin’ a break, that’s all.”  Bubba said and then gave a loud burp. 

            Maude walked over to the sink, opened the door below it and looked inside the trash.  She turned to Bubba and placed both of her hands on her hips as she said, “Must be one whale of a break Bubba Lee!  There’s eight empty beer cans in the trash and there was a brand new twelve pack in the fridge when I left heah to go shoppin’!”

            Bubba looked like a coon treed with a ground full of hounds.  His eyes were big, his mouth was open and drooling, his head twitched from the left to the right, and the veins in his neck were beginning to swell and turn red.   I know I was an idiot, but I laughed. 

            “What you laughin’ at you redneck fool!  We leave y’all ‘lone fer a few hours and you turn to drinkin’.  Everythang ain’t done with a beer in hand.”  My wife was a bit upset it seemed as well.

            Bubba, suddenly spoke, “Name somthang I cain’t do with a beer in my hand!  I even brushed my teeth with beer in Vee-it-nam, durin’ the war a-course.” 

            “Bubba, I done heerd ‘nough outta you.  You ain’t in no Vee-it-nam, you're in ‘Possum Holler county and I ‘spect you to act like it. “  Maude turned her head and gave Beverly a big grin.

            “Maude, the di-rections fer that bicycle are a terrible mess.  Hit’s all written in Chinese er somethang.  We cain’t even read it.”  It was the best I could do, but I had to come to our rescue or at least throw them two ladies off track.  If they had been beagles I would have thrown them a bone. 

            “Let me see it, Mule.”  Maude came over to the box, which was now beside my chair.

            I opened the box, took out the directions and handed them to Maude.  I noticed Bubba had an evil grin on his face.   Maude, looked at the booklet a few minutes and then walked over, opened the door to the wood stove and threw it in.  I almost lost my mind as I watched the fire consume the booklet.  Now, granted it was in Chinese, but it was all we had to go by. 

            “Maude, my goodness, why did you do that?  What are we goin’ to use to put Junior’s bike together with now?”  Bubba was standing and I could tell he was angry, ‘cause he spits a lot when he’s upset.

            Maude, said not a word.  She walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out two beers.  As soon as she had opened them, she brought one to me and one to Bubba.  She smiled, looked at both of us and said, “You two aint’ gonna put the bike together.  I am with the hep of Beverly.  You two sit there, enjoy yer beers, and watch how the experts do it.” 

            Bubba, who had just taken a drink of his beer, suddenly choked.  As soon as he caught his breath he asked in a low raspy voice, “Since when did you learn to read Chinee, Maude?  I mean ifn we still had the booklet.”

            “Bubba Lee, I am a woman.  And to make it even better, I am a REDNECK WOMAN!  I don’t need no di-rections.  I will have this thang together faster than an egg suckin’ dawg can clean out a henhouse full of eggs.” 

            “Well, if you do, and I ain’t a-sayin’ you can, or cain’t, but if you do, I will go with ya to the VRW with one of yer dresses on.  Mayhap that bright yeller one of yourn.   Plus, I will call you Sandy Claws until New Years Day.”   As soon as he had spoken, Bubba laughed so hard his eyes watered at the thought of Maude puttin’ that bike together.

            I can tell you, it was something to see a real pro at work.  In less than an hour Maude had the bike together and every component of it working perfectly.  What really surprised me was the fact that there were no parts left over.  Most of us guys always have some left over parts, even after putting in a light bulb.  

            Now, Bubba, he didn’t know what to do.  He had shot his big mouth off in front of three witnesse’s, make that four if you counted the beagel asleep unner the coffee table.  He looked kinda sheepish as he finished the last can of beer. He didn’t say a word.  I guess he hoped the women had forgotten his promise to wear a dress to the club if they could put it together.

            “Ok, Bubba Lee, y’all go and get dressed so we can go down to the VRW fer dinner.  You been a-drinkin’ so I am doin’ the drivin’.”  Maude said with a immense smile on her face.  Her eyes were full mischief as she spoke. 

            “Maude, now, baby doll, you don’t thank I was ser’ous ‘bout that dress wearin’ stuff do ya?”

            “Bubba, I said fer you to get yer hind-end into that bedroom and change.  You have a dress to wear and I have a bet to collect.  And, ‘member, my name ain’t Maude, hits Sandy Claws until the first of January.”  She put her hands on her broad hips as she spoke.  I could see she was determined to teach Bubba a lesson on ree-spectin’ ladies. 

            My man Bubba got up, adjusted his ball cap, and started walking toward the bedroom.  He never made it.  When he got to the front door, out he went.  He didn’t even take the time to close the door.    As he ran across the barnyard toward the smokehouse, I heard him yell, “I hain’t a-wearin’ no danged dress! Not fer you, nor nobody else!  You can ferget it!”

            “Where is he going Maude?”  Beverly asked through her tears of laughter. 

            “To the smokehouse.  It is the warmest place around.  He will wait fer y’all to leave and then he will be back.  He’s a bit on the embarrassed side.”

            I guess I was laughing up there with the women folk.  I found the situation so funny I wasn’t even aware I was doing it.  The ladies though, they knew. 

            “And, what are you laughing at Mule?”  Maude asked in a very stern voice.

            “Not a thing Maude.  Well, Beverly, it’s getting late and we both have to work in the mornin’.  I think it’s time fer us to head to the barn.” 

            “Nope, me and Maude got some gifts to wrap.  You wanna go home, you walk home.  You been a-drinkin’.” I jknew she was right, but Beverly had spent way too many hours with Maude that day.

            I walked the mile home, and I laughed the whole way.  Bubba shore would have looked down right purty in a bright yeller dress.  I wonder is she would have done the boys hair up too?