"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."---Mark Twain

Monday, July 1, 2013

Neighborman And The Game Warden

I knew the next door neighbor was, well, odd.   Hubby describes him as "crazy as Hell".

The house he lived in was falling apart and rotting in spots.    There are three huge pecan trees on the property, and that's a squirrels' dream come true.
    The house is a bonus for the squirrels because they have taken over the attic.    From time to time, they run through the house.    Squirrels are tree-dwelling rats.    Inside a house, they are just as destructive, chewing on everything and leaving behind a smelly mess.

He swears they are eating his house in front of him and laughin' about it.

He finally reached his limit.

He's propped up on his truck with his rifle when the police arrive.

"You can't shoot that rifle in the city limits!"     The officer starts with the obvious.

"You just watch me!"    Neighbor-man doesn't care, and sights in another marauder.

"What the Hell's wrong with you, boy???"

"The damned squirrels are eatin' my house and they gotta go!!!!"

"Ol' lady So-N-So down the street is about to have a baby, what with you firin' that damned rifle!"      

"Well wheel her into delivery, boys, and in the meantime, you're fuckin' with my huntin'!" 

*BLAM*    And another one bites the dust.

The police leave him to his hunt, and drive away.

I think T-Bird is right---the man IS crazy as Hell.

His favorite target, other than house-gnawin' squirrels, has got to be The Game Warden, against whom he holds a grudge.

If you break game and fish rules, and get caught, the blame is YOURS.   You rolled the dice, you lost, he did his job, end of story.

My neighbor had been caught by a game warden for some infraction and wanted a little payback.

He ran his mouth all over town about huntin' deer illegally and made sure he talked his trash to the right people.    You know, the tattletales.

The day dawns and he is sitting in his deer stand, overlooking a pile of corn.  

Hunting over corn is a big No-No.    You can cover the woods with the stuff to get them to come to a certain spot.    Until the first day of deer season.    Then, you'd better Hoover up every last kernel.

The game warden steps out of the bushes and yells:    "I gotcha now!   C'mon down!"

"You ain't got shit!"  

"Yeah, I got ya, come down!"

Neighborman climbs down from his stand, and after a thorough search it is discovered that he doesn't have so much as a sharp toothpick.

So far, there is no law against a man sitting in a tree on a piece of land he has rented.   If he has no weapon, he is not hunting.

On another hunt, Neighborman was actually huntin' deer.    He took one of those folding yard recliners to his spot, and was kicked back with his rifle when he heard the truck.
    He rolled out of the lounge, crawled to the tree line, and took off with the warden hot on his heels.
    He out-distanced the game warden with no problem.   Slippin' in and out of cover, he stayed one big step ahead.  
    When the officer got too far behind, he'd wait for the man to catch up, then take off runnin' again after he let the officer see him.
    The Game Warden caught glimpses of his perp from time to time, but that was all.

When he'd had enough, he slipped back to his truck and went home, leaving Fish And Game high and dry.

Two women were sitting at the edge of a pond, fishin'.      Layin' on the ground between them is a croaker sack (burlap bag).
    The fish were biting, and they were chatting away when the Game Warden pulled up.   That'll kill a conversation dead in it's tracks.

He checks their licenses, checks the catch to make sure it's legal, and all the time he's eyein' the sack on the ground.

"What's in the bag?"  he asks.

"That's a 10 lb. jack."  one lady replies.

The Game Warden is thrilled;   you don't see a 10 lb. jack very often in these parts.

A jack is like a pike, but they seldom grow to an impressive size here, and ten pounds would be impressive.

He's just gotta see this thing........

"Can I look at it?"

"You sure can!" she says, and gestured toward it.

He squats down and opens the bag.

Inside the bag is indeed, a 10 lb. jack.    Put out by Sears.   It was a car jack that she had toted around in the bag in the trunk of her car since he wrote her up for fishing without a license the year before.

I got that one from the Game Warden himself.

She knew what she was fishing for.   She prepared, and baited him up.    Then she set the hook and reeled him in.

You go Girl!    He weighed in at at least 225 lbs..

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