Bubba J’s Christmas

Back on April 19 of this year, I shared my friend, Bubba J’s Coronavirus Journal with my readers.  Well, I crossed paths with Bubba J. again last week at Wal-Mart.

We talked about Christmas.

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Bubba and I ran into each other in the sporting goods section where we were both shopping for Christmas presents.  I mentioned that I was looking for some .22 target cartridges for one of my grandsons and Bubba scoffed, “I sure as heck ain’t gonna buy ammunition for any of my kin.”

It really didn’t matter to me if he didn’t want to buy ammo for his relatives, but the way he said it raised my curiosity.  I asked why he put it that way.  “Did somebody get shot at Christmas?” I jokingly asked.

He shook his head, “No, but that’s about the only thing that hasn’t happened, and that didn’t miss by much.  Some of my kin come up short on good decision-making skills.”

I chuckled, which prompted him to say, “Lemme tell you about our family Christmas get-together a few years ago.”

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We were in the parking lot by the time Bubba felt comfortable talking about one of his Christmas experiences.  He lowered the tailgate on his pickup and sat down, then began, “In my family, we usually celebrate Christmas morning at our own houses.  You know, Santa Claus comes and leaves presents, that kind of things.  Then, around noon on Christmas, we get together at Grandma and Grandpa’s house for lunch and to exchange gifts with the rest of the family.

“Now, normally, a few days before Christmas, some of the family that lives close to the grandparents gets together and goes out to the woods to cut a tree.  Then we haul it back to the house and everybody who’s there decorates it and gets it ready for Santa.

“Usually, the ones who cut the tree include my Uncle Chuck.  He farms the land and always knows where the best trees are.  Well, that year, Uncle Chuck, the one who owns Chuck’s Towing, got called out on an accident.  Uncle Chuck had to take his wrecker out to pull the guy out of a ditch.  Well, Chuck’s twin brother, Buck, was home and said he’d go out and cut the tree.

“I got elected to go with Buck to keep him from getting into any trouble.  Actually, the way Grandpa put it was, ‘So he won’t get into too much trouble.’  Since Buck had just been released from prison and hadn’t been home for a few years, I wasn’t sure what Grandpa meant by that remark.  It could have meant in trouble with the law, since he was good at that, or it could have meant getting in some kind of physical or accidental trouble, since Buck had a reputation for those too.

“As it turns out, Grandpa meant ALL of those.”

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Bubba continued, “I was fourteen and had been driving around the farm for a few years so Grandpa knew I could drive his old extended-cab pickup.  He tossed me the keys.

“Well, he tossed them toward me.  Buck’s hand struck like a rattlesnake and snatched those keys in midair.

“’I’m drivin’,’ he said, and headed out the door.

“I was beginning to understand Grandpa’s order to me.  First of all, I’d have to keep Buck on the farm because he didn’t have a license.  He’d tried to get one when he got out of prison, but had been refused.  We told people it was because of a ‘driving while intoxicated’ charge, but it was really a ‘taking a driving test while intoxicated’ charge.

“See what I meant by ‘short on good decision-making skills?’”

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Bubba let that comment sink in, then went on, “We started down through the pasture, past Grandma and Grandpa’s new outhouse, and I pointed out to Uncle Buck that the field-road was a lot smoother than the pasture, which was studded with frozen cow patties.

“Buck just laughed and shifted into a higher gear.

“I was busy hanging onto the cuss-handle to keep from being thrown out the passenger-side doors, both of which had bounced open.  I was beginning to worry that I might be killed going to cut a Christmas tree when I suddenly caught a flash of green and I was thrown into the dash as the pickup stopped short.  I should say, ‘was stopped short.’  Uncle Buck had run head-on into a medium-size cedar tree, which had broken off about five feet above ground level, in the process of stopping the truck.  The top of the tree had fallen onto the pickup.

“When I had regained my wits enough, I got out the open door and stumbled around to the front of the truck where the very-broken cedar stump stuck out from the very-bent bumper of Grandpa’s truck.

“Buck said, ‘That was lucky.’

“Seeing the look on my face, he explained, ‘It’s the perfect tree, and we didn’t even have to gas-up the chainsaw.’

“I helped Buck wrestle the rest of the tree into the back of the pickup, noting that one side of the cedar’s remaining trunk had lost most of its branches in the collision.

“‘No problem,’ Buck said. ‘We’ll just put that side in the corner of the room.  It’ll look fine once we hang some garland and tinsel on it.’

“I wasn’t sure we had enough decorations to make that tree look good but, at that point, I was anxious to get back into the pickup and back to the safety of Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

“Going around to the passenger side, I noticed that the door to the extended-cab had been smashed up against an oak tree in the accident but my door was open and I was able to get in, although closing it wasn’t easy due to the damage from the oak.

“Buck backed up the truck, scraping the passenger side against the oak tree and wiping off the mirror on that side.  I wanted to pick up the mirror to take back to Grandpa, but my door wouldn’t open.

“When Buck tried to turn around, he ran into a walnut tree, on his side this time. Another mirror gone, but Buck didn’t bother trying to pick it up; he had more important things on his mind.

“You see, when my uncle had hit the cedar, the damage to the truck and the tree weren’t the only result.  Nope.  It happens that one of the trees was occupied and, in the flying trees and doors, something else went flying. 

“The biggest ‘coon I’ve ever seen had somehow gotten thrown into the truck’s back seat and knocked senseless as the door was slammed shut by the collision.  The jostling and bouncing of the pickup over the pasture must’ve woke him up.

“I figure now that the ‘coon was just trying to escape but he started leaping around the cab like a fur-covered buzzsaw.  Needle-sharp teeth and claws like razors allowed him to run circles inside the truck, shredding upholstery, clothing, and human flesh as he went.

“‘Get out of the truck!’ my uncle screamed.  ‘Get out!’

“I had been trying but my door must have been jammed good the second time it hit the oak.

“‘Get out!’ Buck screamed again.

“YOU get out! I yelled back, intending to follow my uncle out his door.

“‘I can’t!’ he shouted back.  ‘Door’s jammed!’

“Mine too! I yelled.

“Buck’s voice reached a level usually reserved for little girls who’ve just seen a mouse.  ‘OH CRAP!’

“At that point I didn’t think the Christmas craziness could get any worse.

“How wrong I was.”

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Bubba’s face scrunched up at the memory.  He continued, “Now, I don’t believe that big ‘coon understood what Uncle Buck said, but the fact is, it seems like he took it as an order.

“That coon picked that exact instant to…uh, evacuate his bowels.  He was runnin’ around the inside of that truck, squallin’ and poopin’!  Fur and poop were flyin’ and I was tryin’ like a mad man to get my door open and let that dang thing out…or me; ONE of us had to have some relief!

“Now, Buck was already in violation of his parole, drivin’ without a license, but now he decided to become a felon in possession of a firearm.  He grabbed under the seat and pulled out Grandpa’s pistol.

“That ‘coon was squallin’ and poopin’ and, when I saw Buck about to shoot that pistol, I may had squalled and pooped a little too.

“If you’ve never heard the blast of a .44 magnum inside a closed space the size of the cab of a pickup, you won’t believe what happened next.

“BOOM! Buck fired the first shot through the driver’s side door.  Everything got suddenly quiet.

“Buck stopped screamin’.  I stopped hollerin’.  The coon stopped squallin’.  Nobody moved.  We all just stared at each other.

“Now, when the coon stopped runnin’ he happened to be standing on my knee, which I had drawn up to try and help me push my door open.  The only movement was Uncle Buck’s hand…his gun hand.  He slowly aimed it at the big ‘coon on my knee…and fired.

“At that close range my felonious uncle somehow managed to miss both me AND the ‘coon.  The bullet did absolutely the least damage it could possibly do inside that truck; it blasted through the window on my side.

“Now, I’m not sure what we were thinking.  Heck, with our brains addled by the two muzzle blasts, I’m not sure any of us WAS thinking.  Anyway, my first brain activity that passes for thought told me loud and clear, ‘Get OUT of the blame truck!’

“Evidently Uncle Buck thought the same thing…and so did the ‘coon.  The three of us hit that window opening at precisely the same time…and stuck there.  There was bitin’, scratchin’, squallin’, and, of course, more poopin’.

“Maybe the poopin’ was what it took ‘cause, suddenly, we all popped out of that window and flopped on the ground.

“It turns out, not all the cow patties were frozen, either.”

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“Now, you’d have thought, in all that excitement, my uncle would have somehow thought to shift the pickup into park…but no, not Uncle Buck.  As the ‘coon ran to the nearest tree, Uncle Buck and I sat in the wet cow manure, watchin’ Grandpa’s pickup bouncin’ down the hill.  It wasn’t movin’ fast but it bounced and jounced as it rolled down hill, only picking up speed at the last minute, just before it plowed into Grandma and Grandpa’s new outhouse.  It came to a complete stop when the back end dropped down into the hole underneath.”

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Bubba took a breath and went on, “Grandma, Grandpa, and my folks came out the door, walking toward truck.  They got there about the same time Uncle Buck and I did.

“Grandpa looked at me and said, ‘Bubba, I think this qualifies as too much trouble.’  Then he turned to Uncle Buck and calmly said, ‘I had hoped your first Christmas out of prison would be memorable, but this is not quite what I had in mind.’

“Buck said, ‘Yeah, I guess I’m in trouble again.’

“Grandpa looked at Buck and me, both covered in ‘coon and cow poop, and then at the truck, buried axle deep in the outhouse hole.  ‘Yeah, I guess you could say you’re in a world of crap this time.’

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To my faithful readers, I wish all of you a merry Christmas, and hope you, too, have a memorable holiday, just not as memorable as Bubba J’s was.

Just sayin’.

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