Cousin Throckmorton Checks in Again

Dear Cousin Red,

As I have probably mentioned, Gunkel Holler is in Miserable County, which is dry. A’course I suppose most counties which are dry are miserable, but I’m just guessin’. An’ I guess y’all know what a dry county is, that’s one where only the locals are allowed to have booze.

So I guess you could say that it’s only a dry county for strangers. We been drinkin’ down at H.G. Rembert & Sons Butcher Shop for years. We started down there ‘bout 50 years ago when he had the only cold box big enough to store enough beer. We used to sit in the back, next to the cooler in the renderin’ room. If y’all have ever been in a renderin’ room, y’all will know how hard up we was for a cold beer.

But it wasn’t long before one of the Rembert sons realized they we’re making more money from sellin’ beer than they was from butcherin’ an’ they quit sellin’ beer part time an’ went at it whole hog. They cleaned up the renderin’ room, an’ installed a bar. Well, it was really just a couple a 2X12’s stretched across some empty 55-gallon drums, but they had ‘em painted up real nice. An’ once they moved in some old picnic tables we had it made. After a couple of years the wives started showin’ up an’ they wanted things a little nicer, so the Remberts moved the butcher cases out of the front room and put in a real bar and nicer picnic tables.

But they left the sign the same on the window: H.G. Rembert & Sons Hog Butchers and Wholesalers of Hog Fat. I ask H.G. Jr. when they were goin’ to change the sign an’ he said what for? Everybody who needs to know does, and everybody else, we don’t want ‘em to.

We tend to spend a lot of time down Remberts, ’specially come winter. In fact, it was there that we invented an indoor version of horseshoes. The only place we could find was a hallway out behind the chiller that was only long enough for a half court. So we figured we’d hang an old box spring off of a king size bed on the wall at the end an’ see how well it would work. It worked sort of well, but ya had to careful where ya threw, because there wasn’t quite as much bounce in the middle as there was on the sides, and once they come off there a little out of whack, there took some terrible ricochets off the concrete walls. But it didn’t take us long to find the sweet spots in that old box spring, an’ we were back to throwin’ ringers like we had a full deck. I mean a full court.

One day we also worked on a way of playin’ lawn darts on our indoor horseshoe court. Like I heard a guy say on the radio, alcohol was involved in this incident. It was real hard to decide which way was better, when the darts came back like they was supposed to, or when they stuck and we had to go chase them. When they came back we was duckin’ and runnin’ from the way they bounced around. When they stuck, we was duckin’ and runnin’ ‘cause the other ole boy was still takin’ his turn. Like I said, alcohol was involved in this incident.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Rembert’s. They do a real nice business, selling beer an’ light lunches. But for some reason they tend to limit themselves to BLT’s and ham sandwiches. They also do some real nice french fries and onion rings. But do yourself a favor and don’t touch the egg salad. It’s a registered deadly weapon. An’ bring your cash, ‘cause they don’t accept American Express.

Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,

Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter