Writer of Soul-Searching Snark

Backwoods Kind of Night

Or as I like to call it: There’s a Glock in My Pocket.

They obviously weren’t from around these here parts ’cause Booger County men have some of that there backwoods smarts a man can only get from being raised coon hunting and spitting tobacco juice into a bucket down at the feed store. These men were city folk and none too bright. They was lucky they ended up at the kindly, cat-loving, liberal lady’s house instead of the twitchy meth-dealer’s trailer down the road.

As annoyed as I’ve been with the dogs of late, they definitely earned their kibble. You see, I was inside the house basking in the dog-hair free zone, lounging in the recliner, gleefully enjoying the fact that I could watch a TV show without having to get up three times to let dogs in or out or in or out. They were barking, but I just turned up the TV. I figured they were being overly dramatic (I have no idea where they picked up that little trait.)

When the barks turned into guttural growls, the back of my neck started crawling. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. When a man’s voice could be heard over the barking and growling, my heart fell to the pit of my stomach. No amount of breathing was going to calm me down. So, like the good Booger County liberal that I am, I walked to the bedroom and grabbed the Glock. My political views might lean toward the left, but good God, you don’t live in the back of beyond without owning your own arsenal.

Gun in hand, I called Ma. I wanted to make sure she didn’t have visitors that I was unaware of. When she confirmed we didn’t have company and her dogs were going bonkers too, I said, “Get your gun and don’t open the door unless it’s me.”

Now, my current work in progress, Ex-Ray, is about a 9-1-1 emergency dispatcher. Did it occur to me to call the Booger County sheriff? Nope. Didn’t cross my mind. Chastise me later.

Glock in the left pocket and the extra magazine in the right, I headed out the door. Usually, the dogs will stop what they’re doing and mob me. They didn’t even notice me. They were down at the gate, hackles raised. They scared me to death. I’ve never seen them so blood thirsty. After a second of debate–go inside and get a flashlight or take the car–I got in the car and drove down to where they were fussing.

A man in camouflage stood in the middle of my driveway. If I lived in LA or something, I’m sure the man-in-camo would have been cause for concern, but I live in Booger County. Shoot, I’m wearing camo sweatpants as I’m writing this. So, his manner of dress wasn’t noteworthy, but…

The gun was.

Then it occurred to me that it’s deer season. Another man came climbing out of the holler. So, there before me stood 2 armed men… about to cry. Poor boys were lost. The first words spoke were “Do you know—-?”

Yep. I sure do. Long story.

I had two options. I could bring them into my house and have them call someone to pick them up or I could take them to the neighbor they mentioned. I threw their backsides in the car. I was ready to be shed of this nonsense.

By now, the dogs were foaming at the mouth. Instead of worrying about them chasing the car, I threw Reba and Luna in the car with me. Both dogs are afraid of men. I couldn’t figure out why Reba kept trying to crawl into the front seat until I turned around and found Luna sprawled out in the backseat with her head in the guy’s lap. Admittedly, the dude was pretty hot. I realized that Reba was trying to get in the guy in the front seat’s lap. Vicious guard dogs!

On the 25-minute drive to my neighbor’s house, the men explained that their friend told them to go out hunting, but didn’t bother to mention the property boundaries or that there is no public land around here.

Luna’s new boyfriend said, “Yeah. I crossed a couple of fences. I wasn’t sure if this was one of those places where you could get shot when you trespassed on someone’s land or not.”

I said, “Yeah, it is, which is why I have a gun in my pocket.”

I deposited them at my neighbor’s house and drove back home to tell Ma about the whole adventure. She was standing on her porch, Ruger .22 in one hand and the phone in the other. Gotta love that woman.

She said, “That’s just crazy. Walking around in the woods, not knowing where you’re going. That’s a good way to get shot.”

“You know, Ma, I considered shooting them because they interrupted Dancing with the Stars.”

“It would’ve been justifiable.”

And yes, the dogs slept inside last night!


Comments on: "Backwoods Kind of Night" (8)

  1. mgmillerbooks said:

    Kind of made my hair stand up for a minute too. Glad it was only hunters. Love your subtitle, and glad that you have one (glock, that is) 😉

  2. Holy Firepower Woman! You do lead an interesting life. And good for you for tucking that Glock in your pocket before opening the door.
    Kiss the puppies on their soft snouts for me. Good job all the way around!

  3. Good story! Glad it turned out to just be lost hunters 🙂

  4. Boys, their toys and no brains…instead- tears…whatcha gonna do?
    Linda Joyce

  5. Great story! Hunters can be so, what? clueless? I know. Not all hunters go happily across fences just expecting that all is hunky dory. Can’t wait to see you soon.

  6. City guys out hunting! You gotta love ’em, but I have yet to meet one who had a lick of sense! We’ve had them stop and ask what a deer looks like, while pointing at a jersey cow across the road!

  7. Not a lick of sense is right. They decided to walk toward my house because of the dogs. Figured they could approach slowly and the dogs wouldn’t hurt them. Duh!

  8. Oh, boy. Of course my first thought went to the dream. LOL Glad you let the dogs back in the house. They did their job. And I just love that you had a gun in your pocket! You and Mama are my kind of women! Glad everything turned out ok.

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