A Letter From Bubba

Just the other day I received a letter from and old friend.  We were in high school together and I had not heard from him in quite a while.



Dear Tony,

As you know me and Sonny are over here in Spain. We heard that these Spanish people really like roasted baby pigs. We’s pig farmers you know and we’re trying to get a better price for our porkers. You ‘member Sonny, doncha? He’s Mr. Jabe Mulinax’s oldest boy. He’s a big ‘un and that’s really good aroun a farm. An’ smart too. Finished high school and all. We’s here in Cordoba, Spain and las night Sonny said we should learn somethin’ about culture.

He said we was gonna see some flamingo dancin’. I’ve heared of a lot of things like racin’ pigs and such but never no birds dancin’! Anyway, it was dark when went out to this place that was kinda like a hole in the wall, a real cave. We had this table right next to this little stage. This young fella brought us a bottle of wine. I ain’t much of a wine drinker, I’m a beer man myself. This stuff tasted a lot like pine rosin, but I drunk it anyway. They had a bunch of straight chairs on the stage and the folks went up an sat down. One fella didn’t have a chair so he set on a big wooden box. There was this guitar player that looked a lot like that actor Antonio Bandaras. He commenced to try to tear the strings off that guitar when he played. The fella on the box started beating on it like it was a drum. This skinny fella dressed in black with long hair and cowboy boots got up and started to dance. He was stompin’ like he was trying to put out a fire. And the man on the box started hollerin’ like maybe he was in pain or like maybe somebody had run over his coon dog. The dancin’ man spun around and shook his head and me an’ Sonny got a shower of Spanish sweat. It was kinda like when your dog shakes hisself after he’s been the creek. Smelled a little better though. Everybody cheered when the dancin’ man set down. Then this pretty little girl got up to dance. She was about twenty-five and real easy on the eyes. She was dressed in this long frilly dress and commenced to dance while the guitar player played, the same fella hollered and the other fella clapped in a rhythm with the music. She done the same kinda of dancin’ that the man done but was a whole lot better to look at. They carried on like this for about a hour. Sonny, he’s right smart, y’know, said they was gypsies. My grandma was scared of gypsies. She said they would steal yo’ babies.

The show was over and we left. I never did see no birds. The dancin’ girl was by the front door when we left smoking a Chesterfield cigarette. And she smiled at me.

We’ll be tryin’ to sell more pigs tomorrow.



Your ole buddy

Bubba



P s say “Hello” to Claudette for me.