Dear Red Tater,
Congratulations on your team winning the Championship. I told you I’d congratulate you...so there you go. I’m a man of my word. I guess you’re happy this morning. I can hear your doing that hillbilly, gap-toothed whistle thing you do to the tune of the fight song. It’s annoying. You are a truly annoying human being.
As I counted out my Lipitor regiment this morning, staring out the window contemplating my sorrow I realized that this is all Tony’s fault. He switched up brands of bacon down there at the store and got this new peppered stuff. Thick cut. Cost a buck-fifty more a pound...so he says…
He tells me it’s cut from an organic pig. What’s an un-organic pig? A pig from the moon? Anyway, I get to thinkin’ that if it's cut from a better pig and it has this pepper rubbed in there...that maybe it would make my team do better...you know...accentuate the powers of the winning grease I use to cook with on game day.
Well I guess not. And to tell you the truth it didn’t taste any better than any other pig i’ve ever eaten. And to tell some other truth I don’t really think it actually cost a buck-fifty more a pound. I think Tony is just jacking up the prices because he’s the only shop in town. Well I got news for him...I hear they’re building a Dollar Mart up on the 4-lane. They sell bacon...for a dollar.
Either way. Congratulations. I’d tell you to feel free to rub it in for the rest of the year, but I don’t have to, because I know you will.
By the way. I tied one on pretty hard after the loss with the boys next door. Might want to spray your azaleas down with a hose sometime today or else I doubt they’re gonna bloom.
Who’s whistling now hillbilly?
Stump Jones