Tall Tales

     My father was one who loved to give some one a good run around the bush when ever he could.  I am afraid my daughter has inherited this trait from me.  I can not resist giving someones leg a good jerk if the opportunity presents it self.  Sadly my most frequent victium was and is my wife.  She is a California born and raised girl.  Her only expoure to life other than living in the close Los Angeles area is a few trips to visit a married older sister in rural Mississippi and later Arkansas.        She was dismaid  at the simi-primitave life style on those farms.  If you have visited my site on earlier occasions you will know that my first sixteen years were spent in south-west Missouri in what is compared today’s life style some what hillbillish circumstances.  Before and after our marriage I ran her gullable mind in circles.

     I had her convinced that the part of the Missouri Ozarks I came from was so hilly that when we went to town we had to put the two large wheels on one side of the wagon and the smaller on the other side.  The mules legs were shorter on one side than the other.  I told her that when we had to start for home it was a pain in the butt because we had to put the wagon on blocks and move the wheels around to the other side to get back home.  She never asked what we did about the mules shorter legs.  I would have told her we strapped a extension to the shorter side.  We also had to plant our corn by shooting seed corn out of shot guns into the hill sides.  To harvest the corn when ripe we rolled two large round boulders down the hill with a chain strung between them.

     I also told her about raising the chickens for market and how we were plagued by chicken hawks so bad that we could not do the field work.  But grandpa got the idea of buying some parrots and cross  breeding them with the chickens.  This resulted in what we called a parra-chicken.  It had the body and meat of a chicken but the head and tail of the parrot.  This worked out great as we taught the leaders of the flock to come running to in the field. screaming Hawk! Hawk! when they spotted one.  This worked out great as we could now attend to the field work.  It was a brilliant arraignment until we went broke.  This is where I went too far with my tale, every time we tried to sell the birds they talked us out of it.

     Too this day my wife remains gullible to every one but me.  she no longer trusts any thing I say.  but in the reasturant a while back  we see three guys often and speak to them.   she made a comment about a missing member of the group.  The other guys started a long winded story she was buying hook, line and sinker.  The caring person she she is she was really concerned about him.  I finally had to tell her they were pulling her leg.

     As my daughter reads this missive on a regular basic, I’ll only say she is every bit as bad as I am.  If you stick your leg out she is going to yank on it.

     Thanks for dropping by and by the way I have not been pulling your leg this time……but step with care around here.

     Hobbling on out of here ramblingbob 

2 Responses to “Tall Tales”

  1. Raven Says:

    Hmm.. Have I told that many tall tales? I wasn’t kidding when telling mom recently about someone’s dad that had a tattoo of the word “australia” done IN “Australia” and it was misspelled “Astralia”. of course, I think the aussie tattoo artist was just enjoying the thought of this poor guy walking around with it spelled wrong the rest of his life..

  2. ramblingbob Says:

    wasnt really thinking of tall tales in your case. Just how you used to pull a leg with a straight face. Or how you would embarass your guys you worked with by doing something awkard sounding and then act like it was them—–get the picture??

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