"Hey, Bean!" Hadley said. "What you got going on today?"
"Nuthin' much," Beanie said. "I thought about goin' 'simmon huntin'."
"You don't think the possums and raccoons and squirrels and turkeys have gotten the best ones by now?"
"I don't know, Hadley," Beanie said. "I wait till now to try to find some. I've found 'em plumb up to Christmas. Them things can put a awful pucker to the insides of your mouth if they ain't ripe. I plumb puckered mine inside out more than once. I can tell you, it wadn't purty. But boy, howdy! If you can find a few this time a year, they're like eatin' honey sweets."
"They are," said Hadley.
"You 'n' Maury ever have a 'simmon war?" Beanie asked.
"No, Bean. I think Maury would have murdered me if I'd pelted her with those ripe, slimy persimmon balls."
"Oh," said Beanie. "Guess you ain't never fought no manure wars, like me 'n' my brother, Dixie Nardell."
"You 'n' Dixie threw paddies at each other?"
"Oh, yeah. We had some mighty fine fights, me 'n' Dixie did. We'd take them biscuits 'n' toss 'em like rocks at each other. Horse apples hurt like heck if you take a direct hit in the face. Don't taste too bad, though."
"Weren't you and Dixie afraid of diseases or something?"
"Well, if it'ud kill ya', me 'n' Dixie wouldn't be here today. Cow buns is the worst."
"Beanie!"
"Whut?"
"That's enough. I'm knee-deep in poop stories, and my waders are at home. Put your bucket in the back seat. We'll head up into the country and see if we can't spy us some ripe 'simmons."
"Okay," Beanie said.
They drove for a while in silence.
"Hadley," Beanie said.
"Umm."
"It looks like we're goin' to Granny's," Beanie said.
"We are," said Hadley.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Can Say It's You
Mystery / ThrillerA monster is running down Main Street! An old mountain hermit, dressed as Death, drops dead at a Halloween festival in Hope Rock County. Nobody knows why. But mysterious forces are at work on the Appalachian ridges. Granny witches and the Ancients...
