One night, Lonnie and I was out hootin it up on the town. We found us some moonshine that his Daddy done hid before the social welfare folks had come and run im off. 

Lonnie’s Daddy had put im in them wire cages with the dogs and the only thing he’d been feedin Lonnie was table scraps,  since then, Lonnie had been livin with me an Ma down at the cabin on Old Hickory Road.

His Daddy musta hid them mason jars a long time ago cause there was dust all over em, and they was hid under the porch steps. Lonnie knowed where the hidin spot was, cause he could see from his cage where his Daddy done hid em.

We snuck on over by the moonlight and liberated them there jars from underneath the steps. Now Lonnie being Lonnie, was always a hungry cuss, and he’d knowed that there was also some stewed tamatas put up in the root cellar. The social welfare folks said it was cause the way his Daddy treated im, and at was why he was so hungry all the time.

“We’ll get us this here moonshine, and them stewed tamatas, and have us a midnight hootenanny down at Mission swamp,” he said.

I looked at Lonnie and told im,

“Boy, your loonier than a one legged rooster. You cain’t eat them Mata’s cold, you’ll git yourself a belly ache!”

“ No”, he said, “we’ll start us a fire and steam em up first, put a bit a this lightenin with it and they’ll steam up just fine.”

We found us an old grain poke, and put them stewed tamatas and that moonshine in it and headed out for Mission swamp.

Yep, we was young and crazy, Mission Swamp wasn’t a place that most folks went to at night, let alone durin the day time. See, the swamp was known to have poachers and the like that moved about in there. They’d just as soon shoot ya as ta say howdy, But we twern’t thinkin on that at the time, we just wanted us some kinda party. We had the makins for a good time, and we was gonna have us one!

We cut through the woods past the cemetery, and Pardee’s buryin house. The lights were on, so old Pardee musta been fixin ta bury someone.

“Makin em ready for the pine box and glory.” I always used ta say!

“Let’s take a look see Lonnie, see who Pardee’s fixin up in there.”

Me an Lonnie had seen dead folks plenty a times. We helped old Pardee dig the graves for those folks who left the confines of this world, and had gone on ta meet their maker. So seein em dead and what not, didn’t really bother us much. Ceptin if it were a tractor or hay bailin accident. Those folks id be mighty tore up from those types a things. Besides, he paid us seventy five cents each, so it was a profitable adventure fer us.

We stepped up on the porch of the buryin house, and stepped through the door.

Sure enough, there was Pardee leanin over someone.

“Hey Mr. Pardee, it’s just Lonnie and me stopping by to say hey, wonderin if you’ll be a-needin a grave dug tomorrow.”

Pardee looked up at me and Lonnie.  He had a sad, sad look in his eyes.

“Boy’s, I’m glad ya come over tonight, I wanna show ya all somthin. Come on over here and take a look at this poor soul.”

Me an Lonnie stepped on over and stood next ta Pardee, lookin down at this dead body.

“Boys, these are the earthly remains of Wilbur Pigeon, The sheriff brung im ta me tanight. See here,” Pardee pointed ta poor Wilbur’s chest. “That’s a shotgun wound boys, Sherriff says that poor Wilbur here is the work of Cooter Muldoon. Seems as though Wilbur was out traipsin in the swamp and come up on Cooter’s trap line and Cooter as well, I suppose. Cooter done shot this poor boy for no good reason. Sherriff’s out lookin fer im now. Just wanted to let you boys know to keep a wary eye out tanight. Sherriff says there’s a fifty dollar reward as well for Cooter’s capture. That boy is meaner that one eyed coon hound.”

Lonnie looked over at Pardee and gave im a dirty look.

“Lonnie, pay no never mind to Pardee, he twern’t talkin bout you!”

Lonnie was a might sensitive about his predicament bein raised with the hounds and all.

The social welfare folks said he had what they called, “A bit of an inferiority complex”

We said our good byes to Pardee, and left im to finish up poor old Wilbur.

“He’ll be ready for buryin tomorrow boys.” I turned around and saw Pardee shakin his head and goin back to work on the poor soul.

Now, me an Lonnie had been sippin some on that lightenin as we was makin our way. And in our confused state of drunkenness we come up with a plan. We was gonna go out and capture us Cooter Muldoon. Fifty dollars! That was a fortune ta me an Lonnie. We decided we’d head inta the swamp and set ourselves up a trap for old Cooter!

We cleared the woods, and come out on Dead Horse road. At the end of Dead Horse was the path leadin inta the swamp. And at the end a that there path was one of Cooter’s trappin cabins.

As we got closer ta the cabin, I turned and looked at Lonnie and gave im the hush sign.

If ol Cooter was in the cabin we didn’t want ta spook im none. We’d sneak up quiet, like a pole cat on the prowl!

I made it up ta the window and took a peek in. The place was empty and it looked like ol Cooter hadn’t been there in a spell.

“Come on Lonnie,” I said, “let’s git inside.”

Lonnie took another long draw on one them mason jars, and passed it over ta me; He had a goofy grin on his face. I knew right then and there that, that boy was pickled Hell; I wasn’t too far off of bein drunk maself!

That cabin door opened with a loud creak. I stopped the door half way so’s as not to make any more noise than we needed to. This was gonna be an ambush, with Cooter bein the ambushee! We didn’t want ta let on by makin all kinds a noise.

We got inside and Lonnie pulled them dang stewed tamatas from the poke.

“Lonnie how can you eat at a time like this, when we’s about ta capture us a murderin fugitive?”

Lonnie just looked at me with that goofy, drunk grin a his and shrugged his shoulders.

Cooter had been here. There was still some coals in the potbelly stove over by the window, and before ya know it, Lonnie had him a good size fire goin in it again.

I looked out the window, searchin for any sign of Cooter bein about. In the meantime Lonnie was puttin them stewed tamatas on the stove. I was so wrapped up in lookin for Cooter, I didn’t notice that Lonnie had forgotten ta take the lid of them matas!

I found me a chair and flopped down in it, and took another long draw off that lightenin jar. Man, me an Lonnie was drunk, skunk stinkin drunk!

All the sudden I heard a commotion out side!

“Who in the hell is in ma cabin? You all got to a count a five ta come out or I’m’a comin in! And I’m loaded fer bear boys!”

Lonnie looked at me, still smilin, “What we gonna do now?” He asked almost fallin over at the same time.

Outside Old Cooter was pacin back and forth. He had been drinkin too, and was pretty snockered his self. He was so drunk that he had forgotten to reload that scatter gun after he shot Poor old Wilbur. He yelled out towards the cabin, “FIVE!” and dropped the hammer on an empty chamber. I was lookin out the window and saw the whole thing.

I tried to lower ma voice to make it sound like I was the Sherriff.

“Cooter Muldoon, this is the Sheriff’s department, drop that shotgun and put yer hands up, or we’ll start shootin back at ya!”

Cooter was in a tizzy, diggin in his pockets for another shotgun shell, I knew he was about ta come bustin in here and kill me an Lonnie both! I ducked down from the window, and waited fer the worst.

Then it happened. I heard this loud explosion, and the breakin a glass and the feelin of warm liquid on ma cheek, and arms, I was screamin and put ma hand to ma face. I wiped some of it away to look at it, and my hand was covered in red!

“Lonnie, I done been shot! Ol Cooter done killed me too! Come help me stop the bleedin!”

I looked over at Lonnie and he was on the floor laughin like a rabid hyena dog.

“Lonnie, what are you laughin at while I ‘m over here gun shot and bleedin?”

Lonnie rolled over and looked at me and said,

“Boy, you aint gun shot, you just been smattered with hot stewed tamatas. That there mason jar exploded on the stove and you was in the line of fire!”

He was howlin like a moon struck wolf. I picked up a towel that was hangin off the back of the chair and wiped my face and arms off and threw it at Lonnie who was still rollin on the floor.

“Ok, don’t shoot, I give up Sherriff.”

It was Cooter. He thought we was shootin at im and done decided to give his self up ta the law. I peeked out the window and saw that he had chucked that shotgun over in the weeds, and was layin face down in the mud shakin like a new born fawn.

I yelled out there in my best Sherriff’s voice, “Don’t move Cooter or we’ll shoot again at ya!” I found me a piece a bailin rope and kicked Lonnie,

“Git up, Cooter thinks we’re the cops!”  We both went out there and put a rope on Cooter and tied im up snugger an a bug.

We rolled im over, and he took one look at us and said,

“Hey you two aint nothin but a couple a kids! Where’s the sheriff?

I looked at him and said, “Cooter Muldoon, Lonnie and I are makin a citizens arrest on account a you killin Wilbur Pigeon.” 

Lonnie walked over and handed me Cooter’s shotgun, I checked the barrel and Cooter had managed to load another round in it. Boy we was lucky. But that white lightenin hadn’t done much fer me, I went from three sheets ta the wind, to hotel made bed once them tamatas went off!

“Kinda seemed like a waste,” I thought. But what the heck, Lonnie and I would be gettin the reward money. For takin in old Cooter, plus the seventy five cents each for buryin Wilbur. Plus we had some a them Killer stewed tamatas left, and another jar a shine. All in all, we had us quite a time!