Invasion Of The Electric Beagles
One afternoon late last fall, I was minding my own business watching a college football game on the tube. I don't even remember who was playing only that it was NOT my beloved albiet inept Gamecocks. If the 'Cocks has been playing on TV, my involvement in this silly situation would have been limited to a distracted, "HUH? What's that Darlin' ?"
But... they weren't playing and I WAS involved so...here's what happened.....
Over the roar of the crowd on our surround sound system I heard something somewhat similar to the din produced by 100 wild pigs being circumsized. (don't ask how I'm familiar with this sound)
Anyway, my wife Michelle comes through the back door screaming, "Honey, they're shocking these little babies!! Get your gun!"
Just imagine! I'm kicked back in my favorite recliner, sipping on a cool Screwdriver secure in my own little world and I hear THAT! My first thought was that Joseph Mengele had somehow survived and had shown up in my backyard with a van full of freshly kidnapped infants hooked up to a car battery. Hell...what's a guy to think at a time like that? I may not be real bright but I DO have an active imagination at times.
I ran, ok....I "shuffled" to the nightstand to get my pistol. (hey, when my wife says, "get the pistol" I'm not going to pass up on a rare "hero" moment")
After grabbing the pistol, I hurry out to the back deck to witness a "shocking" site. Cringing Beagles were EVERYWHERE! (How often do you get to say THAT?)
I'm serious. There must have been ten or twelve little Beagles cringing in, around and all over our back deck in various stages of hysteria. (Interesting thing about hysterical Beagles...they urinate and defecate SIMULTANEOUSLY! Oh the humanity!)
Of course, being the rational man I am, I'm not about to shoot twelve or so frightened little dogs just to get them off my deck so that I might quickly get back to my ballgame. After all... my pistol only carries nine rounds. So... I suggested that my wife check their collars to see if there were any ID tags or some such. Michelle thought that was a swell idea.
Reaching down to inspect one of the Beagle's huge collars, she received an electric shock that damn near made my pacemaker skip a beat!
Her scream added to the cacaphony sent up by the electrified Beagles made me consider turning the pistol on myself! My GOD what a racket!
Moving on...
We finally found a phone number on the tags and I immediatly called it. The following is a rough transcipt of the "conversation" that followed:
"Helloooo".
"Yes ma'am, do you own a bunch of Beagles wearing shock collars?"
"Naw" (remember...it IS the North Carolina mountains)
"Well, your telephone number is on their collars"
"Yeah, them dawgs is muh husband's dawgs, they hain't none a mine."
"Ooookay......can you get in touch with your husband and tell him to come get his DAWGS off my deck?"
"Well, he's out a-huntin' today"
"Yes ma'am, I kinda figured that out for myself. Can you get in touch with him?"
"No, see, Hubba's out a-huntin' right now, he's with them dawgs hisself." (yep..I said "Hubba"....never heard that one before)
"Well ma'am...I've got a pack of scared DAWGS peeing and crapping all over my deck and, I've looked carefully....there's no sign of "Hubba"...just scared DAWGS."
"Where is Hubba?
"Ma'am...that's why I'm calling. I'm trying to find Hubba."
(this is priceless)
"How do you know Hubba?" she asked.
I freakin' LOST it!
"Lady, I don't know Hubba... I'm just trying to get him to come get his damned dogs off my deck. Somebody's shocking literally shocking the living shit out of 'em and they're scared to death. So is my wife! If somebody doesn't come get these DAWGS, I may have to start shootin' 'em!"
"I guess I could try him on his "sayall" phone"
For the second time in less than an hour, thoughts of turning the pistol on myself flashed into my mind.
The plot thickens.....
A few minutes later, "Hubba" calls:
"Hello."
"Who's this?"
"Ron...are you Hubba?"
"Uh huh....pause....you ain't shootin' my DAWGS."
"Man....I don't want to shoot your DAWGS, just come get 'em off my deck"
"I'll come over thar and shoot YOUR dog."
"Listen asshole, I don't even OWN a freakin' dog but if I did, I'd let you shoot the son of a bitch just so you'de come get your stupid DAWGS off my friggin' deck!"
"How 'bout I come ovair (mountain for "over there") and shoot you?"
(my head is about to explode)
"Hubba, you'de be doing me a favor after talking to you and your brain dead old lady! Now get your inbred ass over here and get these fu**ing DAWGS off my porch!"
"Whar youins live?"
I told him.
"Ah'mongont (I'm going to) be right ovair and youins is gon be sorrie (sorry)."
"Fine asshole...I can't wait to "meet" (ME for "SHOOT") you."
THIRTY minutes passed during which time, my temper is cooling, we're become fast friends with those precious little cringing Beagles and I'm thinking....
"Jeremiah Freakin' Johnson is coming to blow my damned brains out with a 10 guage! "
"Why can't I keep my mouth shut?"
"How's Michelle going to feel about me when I run like a French soldier as soon as "Hubba's" camoflagued '62 Chevy truck pulls up to the house?"
You know....normal questions a 52 year old, out of shape man with a 19 year old's bravado asks himself only AFTER he's shown his lily white saggin' ass!
For thirty LONG minutes I try and act cool in front of Michelle.
Finally, I hear the crunch of tires on our driveway. Hubba has come to kill me accompanied by the cast of Deliverance.
"Dear God...don't let them make me squeal like a pig ala Ned Beatty. Just let 'em shoot me and leave Michelle alone!"
I stop panicking long enough to walk around to the front deck WITH my pistol clasped in my trembling right hand and guess what I see? Not one but TWO Sheriff's cars followed by what could only have been a camoflagued '62 Chevy pick up truck!
I put the pistol on one of the tables on the back deck and walked out to where the Sheriff's cars had parked next to my Suburban. I was pretty sure the cops wouldn't allow Deliverance boy and his three companions (ten teeth among the bunch of 'em) kill me so....all of the sudden, I was a BADASS again!
Long story short....yeah right......
This dude had called his cousins who just HAPPENED to be county Sheriff's. One of the cops got the ball rolling.
"Sir....we's here 'bout them DAWGS"
"Yeah well, they're here alright."
"Did you shoot 'em?"
"No I didn't shoot 'em."
"Hubba says you did."
"Yeah well, Hubba's a moron."
"It's against the law to shoot a huntin' DAWG sir."
"Well, what's the law on electrocuting DAWGS?"
"Sir?"
"Man, somebody was shocking the living shit out of these poor DAWGS and their shit is all over my deck! Where does the law stand on THAT?"
"Sir...EVERYBODY uses shock collars to train their huntin' DAWGS."
"Well, sorry officer, I'm an EVERYBODY and I missed the damned memo. Can you make him get his DAWGS off my porch?"
He actually paused and, as if in deep thought said:
"Yessir...Hubba's gonna get them Dawgs off'n there for you but you can't go 'round shootin' a man's DAWGS."
"Officer....I DID NOT SHOOT HUBBA'S DAWGS....you got that?"
He pondered for a moment and said with a weary shrug...
"Well......I'm just sayin'."
Hubba, Bubba, Beavis and Butthead rounded up their DAWGS and put them in the boxes in the bed of the old pickup truck. Hubba was just about to get behind the wheel when he giggle and yelled at me....
"I told you you'de be sorry!"
Just to put the cherry on the sundae, Sheriff Boy sidles up to me and says, and I swear....
"You lucky you didn't shoot no dog."
I stood there a moment, looked at my wife and the canine waste spread all over my deck and started laughing so hard that Michelle began laughing too. I couldn't help myself.... I added one last parting shot.
"Officer, if I ever get the urge to shoot something again...you'll be the first one I'll call."
I swear, he looked at me funny for a second then shook my hand and said:
"That's the best way to handle these things sir."
He then sauntered off like Barney freakin' Fife and lead his inbred entourage back down my driveway. Never to be seen again. YET.
Damn a bunch of Electric Beagles and Brain Dead Redneck Mengeles!
I went back to my recliner just as the game ended on a fantastic play. I even missed the friggin' REPLAY!!
But... they weren't playing and I WAS involved so...here's what happened.....
Over the roar of the crowd on our surround sound system I heard something somewhat similar to the din produced by 100 wild pigs being circumsized. (don't ask how I'm familiar with this sound)
Anyway, my wife Michelle comes through the back door screaming, "Honey, they're shocking these little babies!! Get your gun!"
Just imagine! I'm kicked back in my favorite recliner, sipping on a cool Screwdriver secure in my own little world and I hear THAT! My first thought was that Joseph Mengele had somehow survived and had shown up in my backyard with a van full of freshly kidnapped infants hooked up to a car battery. Hell...what's a guy to think at a time like that? I may not be real bright but I DO have an active imagination at times.
I ran, ok....I "shuffled" to the nightstand to get my pistol. (hey, when my wife says, "get the pistol" I'm not going to pass up on a rare "hero" moment")
After grabbing the pistol, I hurry out to the back deck to witness a "shocking" site. Cringing Beagles were EVERYWHERE! (How often do you get to say THAT?)
I'm serious. There must have been ten or twelve little Beagles cringing in, around and all over our back deck in various stages of hysteria. (Interesting thing about hysterical Beagles...they urinate and defecate SIMULTANEOUSLY! Oh the humanity!)
Of course, being the rational man I am, I'm not about to shoot twelve or so frightened little dogs just to get them off my deck so that I might quickly get back to my ballgame. After all... my pistol only carries nine rounds. So... I suggested that my wife check their collars to see if there were any ID tags or some such. Michelle thought that was a swell idea.
Reaching down to inspect one of the Beagle's huge collars, she received an electric shock that damn near made my pacemaker skip a beat!
Her scream added to the cacaphony sent up by the electrified Beagles made me consider turning the pistol on myself! My GOD what a racket!
Moving on...
We finally found a phone number on the tags and I immediatly called it. The following is a rough transcipt of the "conversation" that followed:
"Helloooo".
"Yes ma'am, do you own a bunch of Beagles wearing shock collars?"
"Naw" (remember...it IS the North Carolina mountains)
"Well, your telephone number is on their collars"
"Yeah, them dawgs is muh husband's dawgs, they hain't none a mine."
"Ooookay......can you get in touch with your husband and tell him to come get his DAWGS off my deck?"
"Well, he's out a-huntin' today"
"Yes ma'am, I kinda figured that out for myself. Can you get in touch with him?"
"No, see, Hubba's out a-huntin' right now, he's with them dawgs hisself." (yep..I said "Hubba"....never heard that one before)
"Well ma'am...I've got a pack of scared DAWGS peeing and crapping all over my deck and, I've looked carefully....there's no sign of "Hubba"...just scared DAWGS."
"Where is Hubba?
"Ma'am...that's why I'm calling. I'm trying to find Hubba."
(this is priceless)
"How do you know Hubba?" she asked.
I freakin' LOST it!
"Lady, I don't know Hubba... I'm just trying to get him to come get his damned dogs off my deck. Somebody's shocking literally shocking the living shit out of 'em and they're scared to death. So is my wife! If somebody doesn't come get these DAWGS, I may have to start shootin' 'em!"
"I guess I could try him on his "sayall" phone"
For the second time in less than an hour, thoughts of turning the pistol on myself flashed into my mind.
The plot thickens.....
A few minutes later, "Hubba" calls:
"Hello."
"Who's this?"
"Ron...are you Hubba?"
"Uh huh....pause....you ain't shootin' my DAWGS."
"Man....I don't want to shoot your DAWGS, just come get 'em off my deck"
"I'll come over thar and shoot YOUR dog."
"Listen asshole, I don't even OWN a freakin' dog but if I did, I'd let you shoot the son of a bitch just so you'de come get your stupid DAWGS off my friggin' deck!"
"How 'bout I come ovair (mountain for "over there") and shoot you?"
(my head is about to explode)
"Hubba, you'de be doing me a favor after talking to you and your brain dead old lady! Now get your inbred ass over here and get these fu**ing DAWGS off my porch!"
"Whar youins live?"
I told him.
"Ah'mongont (I'm going to) be right ovair and youins is gon be sorrie (sorry)."
"Fine asshole...I can't wait to "meet" (ME for "SHOOT") you."
THIRTY minutes passed during which time, my temper is cooling, we're become fast friends with those precious little cringing Beagles and I'm thinking....
"Jeremiah Freakin' Johnson is coming to blow my damned brains out with a 10 guage! "
"Why can't I keep my mouth shut?"
"How's Michelle going to feel about me when I run like a French soldier as soon as "Hubba's" camoflagued '62 Chevy truck pulls up to the house?"
You know....normal questions a 52 year old, out of shape man with a 19 year old's bravado asks himself only AFTER he's shown his lily white saggin' ass!
For thirty LONG minutes I try and act cool in front of Michelle.
Finally, I hear the crunch of tires on our driveway. Hubba has come to kill me accompanied by the cast of Deliverance.
"Dear God...don't let them make me squeal like a pig ala Ned Beatty. Just let 'em shoot me and leave Michelle alone!"
I stop panicking long enough to walk around to the front deck WITH my pistol clasped in my trembling right hand and guess what I see? Not one but TWO Sheriff's cars followed by what could only have been a camoflagued '62 Chevy pick up truck!
I put the pistol on one of the tables on the back deck and walked out to where the Sheriff's cars had parked next to my Suburban. I was pretty sure the cops wouldn't allow Deliverance boy and his three companions (ten teeth among the bunch of 'em) kill me so....all of the sudden, I was a BADASS again!
Long story short....yeah right......
This dude had called his cousins who just HAPPENED to be county Sheriff's. One of the cops got the ball rolling.
"Sir....we's here 'bout them DAWGS"
"Yeah well, they're here alright."
"Did you shoot 'em?"
"No I didn't shoot 'em."
"Hubba says you did."
"Yeah well, Hubba's a moron."
"It's against the law to shoot a huntin' DAWG sir."
"Well, what's the law on electrocuting DAWGS?"
"Sir?"
"Man, somebody was shocking the living shit out of these poor DAWGS and their shit is all over my deck! Where does the law stand on THAT?"
"Sir...EVERYBODY uses shock collars to train their huntin' DAWGS."
"Well, sorry officer, I'm an EVERYBODY and I missed the damned memo. Can you make him get his DAWGS off my porch?"
He actually paused and, as if in deep thought said:
"Yessir...Hubba's gonna get them Dawgs off'n there for you but you can't go 'round shootin' a man's DAWGS."
"Officer....I DID NOT SHOOT HUBBA'S DAWGS....you got that?"
He pondered for a moment and said with a weary shrug...
"Well......I'm just sayin'."
Hubba, Bubba, Beavis and Butthead rounded up their DAWGS and put them in the boxes in the bed of the old pickup truck. Hubba was just about to get behind the wheel when he giggle and yelled at me....
"I told you you'de be sorry!"
Just to put the cherry on the sundae, Sheriff Boy sidles up to me and says, and I swear....
"You lucky you didn't shoot no dog."
I stood there a moment, looked at my wife and the canine waste spread all over my deck and started laughing so hard that Michelle began laughing too. I couldn't help myself.... I added one last parting shot.
"Officer, if I ever get the urge to shoot something again...you'll be the first one I'll call."
I swear, he looked at me funny for a second then shook my hand and said:
"That's the best way to handle these things sir."
He then sauntered off like Barney freakin' Fife and lead his inbred entourage back down my driveway. Never to be seen again. YET.
Damn a bunch of Electric Beagles and Brain Dead Redneck Mengeles!
I went back to my recliner just as the game ended on a fantastic play. I even missed the friggin' REPLAY!!
posted by Rantin' Ron | 9:00 PM
20 Comments:
Did ya ask the law dawg about shootin cats?
That's a good one. Living in rural Tennessee, I know all about brain dead rednecks and huntin dawgs.
Yikes. Somebody should put the collars on the people for sure and rescue the poor pups. Makes me glad I live in suburbs of the big city.
Thanks for dropping by. It's hard to believe but, it's a true story.
Libby, I checked out your site. I'll be back.
Hope you all can stay cool it's HOT up here!! Much more of this and I'm going to Lowes for a little ac unit for the bedroom! We say that EVERY year and never do.
See ya'll.
.. you know, I think I know those guys...
Eric
ROFLOL!!! OMG, that is so freegin' funny! And your description of these characters is so vivid.
Whenever I think I've had it with the city and I want to live far from another human being somewhere else in rural america, all I have to do is read stuff like the one you posted to know I definitely would have wound up shooting myself rather than deal with the likes of Hubba!
Come to coastal Georgia and I will show you some strange ass people and things, Cat
Keeper, as we speak, those guys are being sent to Mexico State Prison by Emperial dictate.
Michele...the location is great but some of the citizens are exactly as I described.
Does anyone know how I can respond to individual comment? I don't mean to be rude to anyone and not respond BUT...I can't figure it out. Yes..I am that stupid.
I once got a springer spaniel runnig away from it collar. Good dog till the owners drove by and saw it.
Never saw the dog again.
Damn, that is one fine story.
Things like that are much simpler in Jersey. Good guys can't shoot anything -- dogs, bad guys, geese, bears -- doesn't matter.
Of course, bad guys can fire at will.
Holy crap! That is hysterical!
Living in the NC foothills, I believe every word! I found your blog off my sister's(Last One Speaks)and I'll be a regular reader. I have neighbors that keep bringing kittens home, then leave them outside to fend for themselves....I now have eight cats! You have solved a great mystery for me. Now I know why beagles stink.
Thank ya'll.
Ron
The, (ten teeth among the bunch of 'em), had me rolling on the floor.
Very nice story.
Holy crap! That beat my "lost her tampon" story all to hell! Glad to "meet" you, Ron - via Teresa and GuyK! Another North Carolina person, are ya? Ain't there some of the craziest people on earth in this state? Geez Louise!
ok. it's official..your my new hero...junebugg emailed me and said i had to come read this...that she read it and laughed till she peed herself...not to be out done..i laughed till i peeded myself too...oh lordy sweetcakes...you're funny....i will be back...come by and see me..if the f word offends you..dont...
This is the best true story I have read on the internet. I live in western NC and hope I never meet these fellows. The best thing that could happen to them is a hunting accident (what's good enough for the vice president is good enough for anyone) and tht they all eliminate themselves from the gene pool.
-lco
Thanks ya'll.
Glad to meet some new folks.
Ron
Ron,
Was the misses microwaving something? Live near a guv'mnt "numbers" radio station up there in those hills?
Cause, unless Hubba was within a mile or so, there's no way the shock collar transmitter would reach, so I'm guessing something else was shocking the living poop outta the currs. Like your house alarm system...
Great story -- you have a gift. And a poopy deck...
OMG! So much for me wanting to move to NC:)
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