Redneck Mythology

Did you ever wonder why there were no mythological Gods of Redneck Folklore? Neither did I.

Then I saw this wonderful picture (copyright Lura Helms) and I said to myself, “That explains it!”

I’m sure a bunch of ya’ll are gonna leave comments thanking me for enlightening you on Redneck Mythology. I won’t be able to respond right away as I am on the road this weekend, but don’t worry, I promise to visit your blogs as soon as I return.  I appreciate you stopping by.

To read more stories, go to   http://madison-woods.com/  click on the Blog tab, and follow the links.

Redneck Mythology

Billy Bob was half goat/half man. We won’t go into his genealogical lineage, but suffice it to say, his kinfolks are regulars on Dr. Phil.

One day, Billy Bob was peeping over the fork of ash tree spying on three beautiful young nymphs skinny dipping. Little did he know that this particular tree was a Venus Fly Ash.

His Mom saw him and cried out, “Billy Bob, pull your head out of that ash!” But the tree snapped shut on Billy’s head.

The moral of the story is; "When you’re doing something naughty; don't stick your head up an ash."

My Adobe Hacienda

I used the title from an old Bob Wills’ song for this week’s Friday Flash Fiction. While I was at it, I raped the lyrics from another song a by popular western swing artist, through in a couple of rednecks, stirred briskly, and threw out in the hot sun to bake. 

This week’s photo by Amanda Gray. To read more stories, go to   http://madison-woods.com/  click on the Blog tab, and follow the links.

My Adobe Hacienda

“How much further, Bubba? I ain’t seeing no ocean yet.”

“The guy said it’s remote. He called it a romantic getaway.”

Two hours later.

“Thar it is, Charlene. Our mansion in paradise.”

“Don’t look like no mansion to me. It ain’t even got no roof.”

“That’s so you can see the stars at night, Sweetie.  Look. Thar’s the Golden Gate.”

A section of wrought iron fence, painted John Deere yellow, dangled from a concrete pier.

“Let me see that deed again, Charlene. Why, I ought to shoot that singing cowboy.”

What’s a matter, honey?”

“This ain’t Arizona. It’s New Mexico!”