Date: Fri, 1 Aug 1997 13:40:09 -0500 From: Catherine Berchtold Subject: INT: Hillbilly Haven Daisy Mae sat at the kitchen table, pickin' at a sore on her arm. She done been listenin' ta her Ma for some time and wuz 'bout ta fall asleep. Her Ma's big, flowered dress kept a goin' in and outta focus. "And why'd that Fa-nully girl have ta bring that Goat with her? He ain't even housebroke. Your Pa's gonna be laid up for a long spell after slidin' in the mess that Goat left on the floor." "I know, Ma." "And you is one lucky girl that you didn't get kilt by them Cuban boys. Didn't your Pa ever tell ya what happened back in '60?" "Yes, Ma." "Ya jist can't trust them Cubans. I know'd they sung right nice and all but jist cuz they can sing Bubbaloo and beat on a drum don't mean they ain't up ta no good." "You is right, Ma." "And who brung that Woof? I think it wuz rabid. She kept a foamin' at the mouth ever time Bertha Mae's man come around. I didn't take my eye off her the whole time." "Thank you, Ma." "And what in tarnation wuz that long-haired hippy girl doin' tossin' them balls up inna air?" "She done called it jugglin'." "Jugglin'? She wuz tossin' balls not jugs! All I know'd is she done got the boys tossin' good tamaters all over the place. Jist wasteful!" "Sorry 'bout that, Ma." "You best be sorry 'bout that. And I wanna know who is gonna replace all my fine china them friends of yours done took with 'em? It sure ain't gonna be me." "I 'spect I will, Ma." "And what happened to Sheriff Li'l Brick? I thought he wuz a comin'." "Ever since he got his hand smashed in the rollers of the wringer washer, he's been steerin' clear of the place. I think he's scared of us." "That boy never did have a lick of sense."