Some stories are passed down from generation to generation and no one seems to know
where they originated. A great uncle in Mississippi sent me the following story about
1955. I am writing it just as it was written when I recieved it. You may
have to read it through a couple of times to understand it.

Me and my Pa lived down in Moon-Shine Holler, about mile, mile and half or two miles.
So I told Pa less go one of them larriping, terraping, coon skin huntings, if he cared. He
axed me, he didn’t care, and I got out and called up all the dogs but old “Shorty” and then
I called him up too, and we went on down the hill, till we got on top of the mountain.
And then they all treed, all but old “Shorty”, and then he treed too, up a long tall slim,
slick sycamore black gum sapling, about ten feet above the top, out on an old chestnut
snag. So I told Pa, less twist him out, if he cared. He ax me, he didn’t care. So I climbed
up there, and shook and shook, and finally the limb what I was standing on broke off, and
I heard something hit the ground, and I looked around, and it was me. And every one of
them dogs was on top of me, but old “Shorty”, and he was on top of me too. I told Pa to
knock them off of me, if he cared. And he ax me, he didn’t care, and he picked up that
are ax, and cut old “Shortys” long slick tail off, right behind the ears, Just liked to have
ruined my dog. So I told Pa that was enough for one days hunt, and we started on back to
the house, and they treed again, in a huckle berry log about 2 feet through at the little
end. And then I decided to go down to Sals house. Sal lives in a big white house painted
green down on Sub Street, The further you go, the further you get. I told Pa if he didn’t
care I would ride. He ax me he didn’t care, so I went to the barn, and put the barn on the
bridle, and the horse on the saddle, and led the fence up by side of the horse, and got on.
We went on down the road kindly studying like. And all at once the fence over in the
corner of the stump got scared at the horse, and the horse reared up and throwed me right
over his head, right flat on my face, in the middle of the road, in a gully about ten feet
deep, right in a briar patch. I got up and peared like I werent hurt, brushed the dirt off of
the horse, and got back on, went leading him down the road. I knowed Sal would be
proud to see me. We got on down to the house, and she had all the doors shut wide
open, the windows all nailed down. I rode up, got down, hitched the fence to the horse,
and went in the house. I throwed my hat in the fireplace, spit on the bed, and put my
socks in the churn, and sot right down in a big arm chair, on a stool. We talked about
politicks, dog ticks, and all other kinds of ticks. And finally Sal says “Bud” let’s go down
to the peach orchard, and get some apples to make a huckle-berry pie for dinner. I axed
her I didn’t care, so we went on down the road, walking just as close together as we
could, her on one side of the road and me on tother. We got down to the peach orchard,
and I told Sal I would climb up the pear tree, to shake off some apples to make a
huckle-berry pie for dinner if she cared. She axed me she didn’t care, so I climbed there
and shook, and shook and finally the limb that I was standing on broke off, and I fell
across a barbed wire fence, both feet on the same side. I skinned my right leg, plum up
to my left elbow, and I told Sal right then and there, that I would never be in Moon-Shine
Holler again. And I aint been back since. Begosh.

Author unknown