Hambone   - February 24, 2010

Why My Cousin Hambone Won't Eat Squash

February 24, 2010

Did I ever tell you why my cousin Ham Bone won’t eat squash? Well, it all started on a Saturday morning, when Wade and Bo Junior were sitting on the front porch drinking Old Milwaukees, shooting cans off the dead tree stump, and listening to bugs fry in the zapper. Bo Junior was down in the dumps since his old girlfriend Erma Dean was getting married that morning down the street in her Aunt Eunice’s back yard. So Bo Junior had the “don’t know what you got till it’s gone” blues and Wade was trying to cheer him up, which is why he thought it might be fun—and might get Bo’s mind off of things—if they was to use that new tater gun they just made the other day, and drive by the wedding shooting spuds into the festivities. Needless to say, they were too young to have any real serious responsibilities, but old enough to know better than to engage in drive-by shootings of the potato persuasion. But sometimes Old Milwaukee does the thinking for you. 

It wasn’t hard for Wade to convince Bo Junior on the idea, as both of them had been itching to use that tater gun for something more productive than shooting Spidey the cat off the railing. Don’t worry, it never hurt Spidey, just stunned him a little. When it came to backyard ballistics, Wade and Bo Junior had an unquenchable passion for coming up with bigger and better home-brewed devices for propelling weird objects through the air. I guess you could say it was their calling. 

In case you aren’t familiar with the intricate workings of spud gun artillery, it’s the process of shooting potatoes out of pieces of pipe using various aerosol products as a propellant. Hence the name, “spud gun.” For a little history of the spud gun, it evolved from the tennis ball gun of yesteryear, but now uses modern materials and construction techniques to provide a safer, more accurate, weapon system. PVC or ABS pipe, properly glued, provides a vastly superior barrel when compared to the soda-can/duct-tape structures of years ago. Wade and Bo Junior decided to use hairspray as their propellant, being as Wade’s cousin Juanita worked over at the five and dime and could get them a discount on cheap hairspray, resulting in a weapon that could shoot spuds nearly two hundred yards, thanks to the makers of Aqua Net. Later, thanks to Internet technology, Wade was to discover the beauty in the pneumatic spud gun, which used compressed air and could wreak havoc on enemy positions within a six-hundred-yard radius, and was the cause for their winning first place at the Pumpkin Chunkin’ contest in Delaware, and the reason that now Bo Junior is missing his big toe. But at the time of this story, they were oblivious to such technological advancements, and so hairspray it was.
 
The plan was simple enough, and seemed harmless at its first construction. Sitting in the driveway to the side of the house, in the flat bed of a rusty, blue Ford pickup, sat a wire cage with a door on top, holding a flock of doves—or is it a pack, or a school? What-ever. The doves were waiting there, to be released at the end of the ceremony, which Wade and Bo Junior thought was downright stupid and deserved to be the target of their carefully aimed tater. Anyway, they were gonna pull the car up in front of the house, and Wade was gonna jump out and open the door to the cage so that the doves would fly out in one giant mass, and then Bo Junior was given the honors (thanks to his suffering heart) to direct the missile right into the middle of the pack, for no other reason than just to see what would happen. 
It was probably what you would consider a dumb idea to begin with, but then they had to go and one-up themselves by attaching a string of firecrackers to the spud for a little added excitement. And they crept down the street in Bo’s Mamma’s old blue Buick, wearing baseball caps as disguises and trying to look inconspicuous as they aligned themselves into position.

Wade snuck out and unlatched the cage, then jumped back into the car, and Bo Junior took aim and fired. That spud sailed through the air at warp speed, beating even their own record for distance. Sailed right through the flock of doves with the sound of a baseball shooting through a ceiling fan, and the doves went hysterical, and that’s when things started to go awry. 

You see, the firecrackers never made it to their destination, coming dislodged upon being discharged from the gun, flying back into the Buick’s back window and landing on top of Spidey, who had crawled into the back seat for a mid-morning nap. Let’s just say that firecrackers and cats ain’t a good combination, and Spidey took on supernatural powers and started ricocheting through that car like a popped balloon, landing directly on Wade’s head, where he clung like he’d never clung before, which wasn’t so good for Wade, who now looked like he was wearing a bushy hairpiece as he jumped out of the car screaming and running through the yard, straight into that wedding ceremony, looking like the ghost of Old Man Perkins, who met his untimely fate while coon hunting, when he stepped under the wrong tree and got attacked by the cousin of a coon he had snuffed on his last trip out. Clung to his head same as Wade’s. 
 
Needless to say, their getaway plan was foiled, and Bo Junior being the devoted friend he was, ran to Wade’s rescue, trying to beat the cat off Wade’s head with a plastic swan he found on his way in.

Meanwhile, the spud, after pegging the flock of doves, continued to whiz past the house to the back yard, where Erma Dean was now walking down the aisle towards her fiancé, Rick, singing Shania Twain’s “From this Moment,” in a high-pitched, screeching soprano that had to have been causing torment to every hound dog within a fifty-mile radius. Only her voice was drowned out by the screech of doves flying overhead, one of which had taken a plummeting detour directly into Porticia May Duberry’s new hat, made special for that occasion and quite fitting to the theme, I might add, being as it was covered in plastic doves, which no doubt had been the cause of attraction for the real dove flying overhead, who must have taken on the heroic mission of saving that one plastic dove that he obviously had mistaken for a long-lost relative who’d gone missing about a year prior. 

So you got the birds screeching overhead; the Lone Ranger dove flying into Porticia’s hat, sending her into a fit of terror; Wade running through the ceremony with a cat clinging to his head; and that spud whizzing along its course of destruction. Needless to say, there was pandemonium. 

Mildred Jenkins, as usual, thought it was the rapture, brought on by the blasphemy of singing Shania Twain at a holy ceremony, and she started screaming, “Take me now, Lord! Take me now!” 

Meanwhile, Pastor Isaiah, who was officiating the ceremony, saw that tater flying through the air and, as fate would have it, he had had a dream just the night prior about his Great Aunt Ruth, who had choked on potato salad when he was a kid and died feet up, right in the middle of a family reunion, and his cousin Fern told him that Aunt Ruth was really a witch and would come back and haunt them one day, and whenever he’d see a potato he’d know she was nearby, and sure enough there was that spud with eyes just like Aunt Ruth’s, and he passed out cold right there on the spot and fell over sideways, taking the daisy-lined arbor with him as he landed on top of three plastic swans.

Now Tater was the youngest groomsman in the wedding, being Erma Dean’s cousin three times removed and once over. And Tater, in case you don’t already know, has the most kid-envied, God-given gift of any boy in Cedar Grove, in that he can throw up at a moment’s notice. Yep, all you got to do is say, “Tater, we need us a barf,” and he’ll have one halfway up his throat before you even finish your sentence. And in case you didn’t know, Tater was one of John Henry’s best friends, and John Henry was the town troublemaker. So it should be no surprise that John Henry (quite perturbed at having to miss his softball tournament to go to a stupid wedding) had coerced Tater into pulling up a last-minute barf at the conclusion of the ceremony, just to make things interesting—as if things weren’t interesting enough at that wedding already. But anyway, Tater was all set to let loose a barf that day, having fully prepared by eating four helpings of his mamma’s leftover squash casserole that day at lunch. And Tater’s cue to unleash the hounds, so to speak, were the words “I do,” which are a surefire part of any wedding ceremony, and certain to be the ideal moment for a prank of this nature. 
Well, turns out that when Pastor Isaiah passed out after seeing the flying spud, and Hortence Duberry ran to his aid and started asking, did anyone know CPR, Enis Jones starts yelling from the back, “I do. I do.” And Tater sets one off. But nobody can hear Enis over the chaos, and Hortence keeps screaming out, “Does anyone know CPR?” so that Enis keeps answering, “I do. I do,” and Tater keeps setting off barfs in rapid succession, not one to miss a cue. Tater wasn’t exactly what you’d call bright.

The groom’s older brother, Bennie, had to join in the action and provide some assistance, being as he had skills in the life-saving department, having taken on a shift once at the volunteer fire department, and he leaned over to check the Pastor’s pulse, and showed everyone firsthand why you shouldn’t go without a belt, and that’s how he come by the nickname “Buttcrack Bennie,” and has been called that ever since. 

So to recap, you got doves going crazy; Porticia wrestling with a dove of her own; Wade still trying to get the cat off his head while Bo Junior beats at it with a plastic swan; Pastor Isaiah passed out cold; Tater blowing chunks; Bennie baring his behind; and Erma Dean pitching a hissy fit at the sight of her perfect wedding being ruined in the middle of her heartfelt solo. 

And that hairspray-propelled tater continues to hurl through the scene, ricochets off the pine tree, bounces off of the oak, whizzes through two blue-haired ladies, sails over Hershel—who, amazingly enough, managed to sleep through the whole thing thanks to a defective hearing aid—shoots underneath hand-crocheted wedding bells and begins its downward spiral, hits the water of the little manmade pond filled with floating magnolia candles, ending its journey by hitting dead-on one unsuspecting and unlucky catfish at exactly the right speed and magnitude to send it sailing through the air, whereupon it slaps Erma Dean upside the face before sliding down her wedding dress, where it frantically tried to wriggle its way to freedom. And as tight as that wedding dress was, honey, you could see every move it was making. 

And Clayton (being the pervert that he is) dives in after it, horrifying Erma Dean’s mother, who starts screaming that that filthy man is defiling the bride, to which the groom’s mother shouts that someone’s long since taken care of that. And Erma Dean’s mamma cocked her head, let out an earth-shattering howl, and made a running lunge for the groom’s mamma, catching hold of her hairpiece, which obviously was not securely attached, and the groom’s mamma’s hair goes flying through the air looking very much like a flying squirrel, which is what attracted Skeeter’s hound dog Grunt, who had been dozing under the cake table, and he starts barking and chasing after it, jumping over chairs, and into old ladies’ laps, tearing down streamer after streamer of plastic lilies. And the groom’s mamma was so incensed at the loss of her new hairpiece that she took off her prosthetic leg and started beating Erma Dean’s mamma with it. Still had the shoe on it and everything. And let me tell you, that woman could move around on one leg better than you probably would have given her credit for.
 
And then Big-Butted Bertha (no offense intended, as even her own family called her that) got into the scrapping match, ‘cause even though she was just in town visiting her Granny Bee, and had been invited to the wedding out of sheer Southern politeness, she couldn’t pass up the chance to partake in a good catfight. And for a while all you saw was Bertha living up to her nickname. I think it was that rear end that was the cause of two black eyes and a dislocated jaw. 

And Clayton’s girlfriend, all fired up after seeing her pervert of a boyfriend dive down headfirst into Erma Dean’s cleavage, decides Clayton’s about due for a whooping of his own, and she starts screaming at him, and flying at him with fists flying and fake fingernails flared, and opens a can of kick-butt on him that only went to prove there’s a reason you should not wear a tube top to a wedding. 

And it was at this exact moment that Myrlene’s youngest boy, Frank Junior, the ring bearer in the ceremony, felt the call of nature, if you know what I mean, and had just learned to use the potty, but had also learned from his daddy that when you’re outside, the same bathroom etiquette does not apply, and you can pretty much pick your spot—and he picked the water lilies attached to a nearby chair, figuring they could use some watering, to which the flower girl (Frankie Junior’s cousin Noreen) screams in shock at the sight, to which the ring bearer turns in surprise, and is now watering the flower girl instead, who from what I hear is still in therapy to this day.

So to recap, you got wayward doves; Porticia wrestling with a dove of her own; Wade still trying to get the cat off his head while Bo Junior beats at it with a plastic swan; Pastor Isaiah passed out cold; Tater blowing chunks; Bennie baring his behind; Erma Dean with a fish set loose in her cleavage; the bride’s mamma dodging the wooden leg; Big-Butted Bertha creating natural disasters right and left; Clayton getting ripped into by his girlfriend, who has now become the attraction of every pubescent boy within a fifty-mile radius; and Frank Junior answering the call of nature on his cousin Noreen.

And where’s the groom in all of this? Standing there like an idiot, cheering for his mamma, the prosthetic-bearing warrior, much to the bride’s dismay. Proving to her and everyone there that he was the spineless coward her friends had suspected him to be, and would never choose her over his own mother.

And it was right about now that Booker Diggs threw all caution to the wind and decided to crack open the six-pack he’d been saving for the post-wedding festivities, and he leaned back in his lounge chair, cracked open a cold one, and watched what had just turned into the most exciting wedding in history. He felt like he had a ringside seat at the boxing match. Why, there was so much going on, he didn’t even know where to look, and whenever there was a lull in one place, he would resort to watching Great Aunt Clorice shaking her cane in the direction of the turmoil, trying to get a good whack in where she could, only she was fairly harmless being as her narcolepsy kept her from following through on most of her moves. And her sister, May Belle, was busy bending over the punch bowl, trying to fish out her teeth, which had fallen out while she was leaning over and filling her purse with petits fours and pigs in blankets to take home in case she got hungry later on. Yep, Booker almost became a believer that day, figuring only God could have worked things out this good. And suddenly he wasn’t so perturbed at having to wear that scratchy, pale blue tux after all.

Meanwhile, Bo Junior finally gets the cat off Wade’s head, and Spidey takes off in the direction of the chaos; Bo Junior takes off after her through all the commotion and trips over Booker’s long feet, and falls flat at the feet of the woman who had broken his heart. Erma Dean. Love Muffin. The only woman he’d ever cared for enough to climb a water tower and paint her name. And as he was coming up on his knees, he realized that he loved her. Plain and simple.

And suddenly, Erma Dean’s fiancé, Rick, takes notice of Bo Junior’s entrance and decides all of the sudden that he’s gonna be the big he-man and take charge of the situation and protect his woman, and he goes over and gets all up in Bo Junior’s face, trying to act all brave I guess, ‘cause Bo Junior was still trying to get to his feet. Well, this wasn’t such a good idea, ‘cause everybody knows that Rick wasn’t no match for Bo Junior. And without even taking a breath, Bo Junior had him in a body lock, and wrestled him to the ground before Rick even knew what hit him, and pinned his neck down with his cowboy boot—a move he proudly borrowed from pro wrestling.

And Erma Dean looked down at her spineless groom and back at Bo Junior, and all these images come back of them holding hands at the monster truck rally. And how he’d broken her heart. Her Pookey-Poo. The only man she’d ever cared enough for to have his name airbrushed on her license plate. And she realized she loved him, plain and simple. And I’ll be if this doesn’t turn into a love story right before our very eyes.

And Bo Junior figured as long as he was already down on one knee anyway, he might as well propose. And he says, “Erma Dean, I’m sorry I told you your butt looked like two pigs wrestling under a blanket.” And Erma Dean said, “Bo Junior, I’m sorry I told you you couldn’t shoot the rear end of a buffalo if you were handcuffed to it.” And Bo Junior said, “I never stopped loving you, Erma Dean. Will you marry me, baby?” And Erma Dean said, “Yes, I will.” And they stood there kissing, and I must say, it was a heart-wrenching performance that would have brought tears to the eyes of the most cynical passerby.
And that very day, once the pastor was fully revived, Erma Dean and Bo Junior got married. And they’ve been married ever since. Yep, you don’t hear love stories like that every day. And to think: It all started with a tater. Ain’t it beautiful. 
Ham Bone’s the one told me that story to begin with. He was the groomsman standing beside Tater during the whole chunk-blowing episode, and privy to the amazing revelation that squash comes out exactly the same way as it goes down. Something most of us would probably be better off not knowing, including Ham Bone, who was never quite the same. And that is why Ham Bone to this day won’t eat squash.