Jake’s Double Date

“Ye ain’t lissenin’! And if ye is ye ain’t soakin in what I’m a’ tryin’ to set out fer ye. Why, it’s purely foolproof!”

I feel myself weakening; 59 minutes of being argued at by the oldest fool I know, and it’s hit or miss whether I live out the hour…

“Jake, what I’m seeing through what little of my mind you’ve left me with is approximately Charlene Darling and you as Ernest T. Bass. And you want me to go on a double date with you, Charlene and some cousin or other?”

“Her name ain’t no Charlene, and I don’t know who dem folks is anyways. Only Basses I knows is Boney; ‘member when your Daddy took a swipe with his claw hammer at Boney’s bitin’ dog?”

OK. So that’s a story best left untold, but it reveals to one of Jake’s mastery of diabolically diverting my mind from the issue at hand and switching to any tack that leads to the word, “Yes.”

“No!”

Bounced right off his skull: “But you ain’t even seen her cousin!”

“And neither have you.”

“I ‘spect she probly zembles that thar Welsh woman ye was always a’goin’ on about, anyways. Them Welshes is from sommers near England, right?”

I give up. Tack-changing time.

“So tell me again why I gotta join this enterprise wherein you’re chasing some old gal who’ll likely  pound you into preserves simply for showing up on her porch?”

“Naw, Gap said she was sweeter’n cane juice, so purely lovin’ that she’d wash a man’s feet do he be jes a little nice to her.”

“You wouldn’t know how to be nice to a woman if your kneecaps depended on it and she ain’t seen YOUR feet! Gap, huh? That explains it. He’s been gunning for you ever since he got that nickname.”

“ME? What I ever have to do with such goin’ ons?”

“You know and I know who the chicken-pilfering rascal was he was chasing the night he ran face-first into that fence post and knocked out four front teeth.”

“Oh, that; well, keep it to yerself. What time we leavin’ Satdy?”

“Well, supposing we had some place to go, just how far would the trip be? I mean, do I need shiny boots or walking shoes?”

“Uh, well, I kindly wanted to talks to ye about that. Hit’s a little fur piece for walkin’, dontchesee, so’s I’m a’hopin’ you got some gas.”

So now we get down to it. At last.

“Where is she, Jake? Why me?”

“Other side the river; you’re a single man; and your truck’s got four doors and a back seat!”

“OK, one at a time: which river?”

He almost groaned: “The Flint.”

“Oh well, so all we need to do from here is get over the Oconee, Ocmulgee and Flint. Supposing I went, by the way, I’d let you bathe with Octagon soap in all three. Sure she ain’t across the Chat?”

“Nope; that’s her cousin.”

“Glad that’s out of the way. Now, about my truck. It also has a sprayed-on bedliner that your butt cheeks could get a firm grip on. The two of you could stretch out private-like under the stars and enjoy a brisk breeze. Likely while I   re-crossed the Chat at 6500 rpm.”

“Sounds promisin’ but you know I ain’t no good at letters and numbers, so’s I ain’t altogether sure what that means. You’d really make me ride in the back?”

“Depends. Does she take a bath at least once a semester? Dip snuff? Suffer from gastritis? Puff Swisher Sweets? And most important, will she FIT in the back seat?”

“Jes how big a female you thank she is, anyhow, askin’ me if’n she’d make it into yore back seat? Come to thank on it, I ain’t real shore. She could always, heh-heh, sit on my lap.”

“You ain’t got no lap. Have you ever even laid eyes on either of these two?”

“What kind of question is that? She’s a wommern! Gap says she cooks a mean pot of squirrel and rabbit dumplings and the best chitlins that ever run a man out the house. Grill up a ‘cue and sew you a cap from the same coon.”

“Oh, I see. That’s after washing your feet, right? By the way, it’s a pity Gap can’t eat nothing but the dumplings these days… I can tell you’re enamored, and I also figure we’re talking about a totally blind double date with a couple of cousins desperate enough to send out feelers reaching across three rivers, into the back of the swamp and dropping onto the front porch of the one and only Jake The Hermit.

“That’s your deal; but what am I getting into with the cousin? Would she help me drag a deer—or throw it over her shoulder? Or maybe even have a squalling fit because Bambi couldn’t outrun a Silvertip? Can she sit in the front seat without crushing my console? Has she ever had a measles shot?”

“Well, all I knows is Gap says she’s shy.”

“Hmm. Like Lizzie Borden? Hiding out from the feds, maybe? If she comes out with a gutting knife on her belt, you’re on your own.”

“Yeehaww! So we’re a’goin’?”

“Just let me do my usual research, check out a few things, and I’ll get back to you, Meantime, take a bath, Or two.”

So maybe it was a dirty trick, but a couple days later I told the old man of my “interview” with Gap…

“One thing Jake, he says that both these whirly girls are teetotalers who DESPISE the use of alcohol in any fashion. All that means is you’ll have to do away with the medicine-making machine, and no more home-brewed remedies. Then we can at least make one trip.”

“HUH,” he spluttered. “Jes’ fergit it. Never could figger what you  saw in them bossy wimmens in the first place…”