I’ve lived on this farm my whole life. I inherited it from my pappy when he passed away in 1974. Growing up it was me and my three brothers, Clovis, Marktholomew, and Jasper. The three of us grew up farming and just thought that’s what we would do. In a small town like this you don’t get big-city dreams. Besides that, I was never one for fashion or social clubs or lapdogs. To me the big city was a place you went if you were man enough to work with your hands. A place you went if you didn’t have the balls to roundup the cattle. A place you went if you preferred kissing men to kissing a filly. Or a woman.
Marktholomew, Clovis, and myself were good farmhands. It was in our blood. I guess it was in Jasper’s as well except he got kicked in the head by our stud horse when he was six years old and he ain’t been right since. He tries his best though and we appreciate his efforts. It’s just a matter of knowing how to talk to him. For example, if you say ”Jasper, go fetch another bale of hay” there is a pretty good chance he will take a shit on the roof of the barn. That’s just how he interprets things. So you have to be careful what you ask for when it comes to Jasper or the devil. Speaking of the devil, my wife. Ha ha. Sorry I can be a bit of a comedian at times. My friends used to say I should go to the big city and do some standup style comedy. And I would say “I can’t do that. I have to stay home and take care of my prize hog. And also tend to my pigs!” You see, by prize hog I was referring to my wife but at first listen you might think I was referring to the four legged animal called a pig. But then as I continue you realize I was referring to my wife as a hog. It actually isn’t as funny as it should be because my wife is a big hungry woman that when she gets too excited will start snorting and stomping around like a 400 pound hog instead of the 380 pound woman. Now I always like big women and I guess that’s why I married her. She was as you would say voluptuous when she was a young woman but after we got married she bulked up faster than chicken on Old Raleigh Fosters chicken feed.
Listen to me getting distracted in my old age. I was telling you about my brothers. One time when we were refilling cow troughs as youngins, Clovis came across a full grow rattle snake. He didn’t see it and accidentally stepped on its tail. This of course, cause the snake to strike immediately. I heard him holler across the field.
“AHHHHH!!! MY TIP! IT BIT ME ON MY PENIS TIP!” He cried out as we ran over.
“What did you say Clovis? Where did he get you?”
“THE TIP OF IT!! MY PENIS TIP! JUMPED RIGHT UP AND BIT ME RIGHT ON THE PENIS TIP. AWWW FELLAS! IT HURTS SO BAD!! MY PENIS TIP HURTS! I CAN’T BELIVE HE GOT ME THERE! ON THE TIP OF MY PENIS OF ALL PLACES!”
One of our hound dogs, Jip, was going crazy and I was worried he would get it as well. I grabbed the snake by the tail and spun it around and hit it against tractor to incapacitate it then stomped it with my foot for good measure. We took him back inside called for Pappy. Pappy took one look at him and said that in a situation like this you have to suck out the poison. We stood there in shock not knowing what to do as what he was suggesting would mean one of us would have to put our mouths on to Clovis’s penis. Then Pappy burst out laughing. “Hell boys, what do you think this is? The big city!?” We were quite relieved. I handful of salve from the oven boutch and another handful of sawdust and threw it at Clovis. “That ought to do it” he said. Clovis looked confused covered in saw dust and with a dollop of salve on his face. “I guess it does feel a little better.” He said.
Clovis died three days later. No one was sure why no one really cared. I think it was because not enough time was spent establishing how important Clovis was in the story of our lives or as a brother. Plus, Pappy made sure that none of us cried over simply losing brother.
“Now remember” he said. “I didn’t raise no big city boys. I don’t want to hear any stories about you crying just because your brother Clovis died. You have other brothers and you will find throughout life other people that you know and love will die. Get used to it or you can go first train to the big city where they cry over everything from spilled milk to spilled buttermilk and I’ll be damned if a son of mine is ever caught socializing with big-city folk.”
“What does that have to do with Clovis Pappy?” I asked. The answer was a swift open hand slap in the mouth. I knew it was coming. Its disrespectful to ask questions to your elders. But this slap didn’t hurt as much of those in the past. Pappy noticed immediately.
“Well, I see your farming beard is coming in. Let Pappy get a good look.” Pappy then put his face near mine inspecting every inch sniffing and snorting as he went. I could smell the whiskey and goat piss on his breath and my Mothers juices in his beard. I instinctively tried to pull away but he grabbed the back of my head with his rough hands and held me close and continued until he was satisfied.
“Looks good son. You will make a fine farmer when I am gone. I am leaving the farm to you.” With that he dropped dead because he had drank a fatal dose of goat piss that morning. I guess that is how he dealt with Clovis passing. He was buried in the same plot as Clovis as he had practically fell in it. Marktholomew was overwhelmed with sorrow but refused to show it. Instead he found solace in The Bottle which was a bar and bait shop near Maude Destrogak’s place. Once there he killed himself by holding his breath until he died when he passed out from holding his breath and fell on a knife of which the handle was stuck in the trigger guard of his pistol which cause it to discharge knocking the frying pan off the wall which fell onto Marktholomew’s head of cheese he had brought with him as a last meal. Ultimately though it was the knife that killed him as the blade had gone right through his heart when he fell.
We got over that very tragic summer and continued work as usual on the farm but with less help of course. I hired Shawn Fengersneffs kid who did decent work and was able to eventually get a tractor that actually ran which really turned things around. In fact that is how I haul my fat wife around these days. We have 5 boys and 1 girl all of who work on the farm. In ’82 I bought Jed Tastakoks acreage and all of a sudden I had one of the biggest farms in the area south of the corner of Layman Ave and Bishopington St. Life is good as they say in the big city. Hey, here is a joke. What do you get when you cross the big city with a homosexual? I don’t know Steve how would you describe yourself!? That one is more funny when Steve is in the room. How about this one.
Knock, knock
Who’s there?
A warthog from hell.
Come on in honey, you know you don’t have to knock!
The warthog would be my wife in that one. It is real popular with the men in town. I have one more for you.
What do you get when you cross a fella from the big city with fashion designer? You get a man that like to suck on other men’s penises and move them in and out getting them nice and wet before they ejaculate in his mouth which he loves to feel in his throat as he swallows it! That one is hard for me to tell because I start laughing when I say “fashion designer” I guess that is why I can never present these jokes in the stand-up style of comedy. And in the end I know I am not cut out for the big city. I am happy here. My farm, my boys, my beautiful daughter, and my fat ugly wife. Why would I ever leave this? I swear when the theologians of the world have tried to relate a vison heaven they have never worked a farm like this one. John Milton admitted the vision of paradise given to him was a vision the almighty had determined he was capable of processing. I just can’t see that God could truly bless his eyes with something like this. For artist and poets have failed to describe in any written text or painted picture the beauty and wonder that I have cast my eyes across every morning for over 6 decades. If this ain’t heaven, then my mind is truly too small for the wonder that God has created for those who seek forgiveness like my fat pig of a wife seeks bacon grease for simple hydration.
Craigington Malkinmilk
December, 2010