Nobody's Fool Y'all

22

 "Oh, Hadley," Maury said, "you know, I'd forgotten how Uncle Pervis went around smiling for months after he got his new set of teeth. Eatin' possum would be like eatin' Uncle Pervis!"

"I've fried a few squirrels, but I swear they look like skinned rats to me in the pan. Harry loved them, though, so once in a month of Sundays, I would cook him some."

"I know what you mean," said Maury. "Bill and Skip love them. I'm not that crazy about them. I usually make me a pot of pintos when I fry up some squirrel and gravy."

"I don't want to eat no polecats, neither," said Lou Edna.

"How could you cook up a skunk without it stinking up your whole house?" asked Maury.

"And road kill! I think I'm severely allergic to that. I know some folks are gung-ho to cook that stuff up, but I honestly don't think I could force my hand to bring a fork full of it to my mouth. My nose and stomach would object too much."

"Me neither," said Maury. "Then again, I guess we ain't never got hungry enough."

"Hmm," Hadley said. "I remember reading about some recipes from a hundred years ago. They had something called 'poverty cakes' I might try. You took some cornmeal and boiling water and added some butter and salt. When it cooled down you fried some eggs with some milk and served the dish with syrup. If you gals are game, we might cook up a few sometime."

"You and your old recipes," said Lou Edna. "That sounds pretty tame. But don't be bringing me no tongue of any description or eel pies or homemade clabber. I mean it. You want to try your hand making some dandelion wine, count me in to sample that. Otherwise, I'm fasting."

"Clabber is like the old timers' yogurt," said Hadley.

"Only worse," said Lou Edna. "Who wants thick soured milk with a side order of sliced peaches?"

"Not me," said Maury.

"Case closed," Lou Edna said. "Only the tame recipes, Hadley Jane Pell. Only the tame ones. No weird guts or off-the-wall game. You understand me? I'm as serious as a broken leg."

"Where is your sense of adventure?" Hadley asked.

"I left it in my air-conditioned trailer in the trailer park, girl," Lou Edna said, "right behind the refrigerated mayo and the flushable toilet."

The three were all smiles as they bounded down the road toward the motor court.

"Well, pucker my petunias! Hadley!" Lou Edna said. "You didn't tell me you'd made reservations at this place! It looks a lot different from the way I remember it."

"I read an advertisement that sold me," said Hadley. "They are sprucing it up."

"Hadley," Maury said as they turned into the motor court's entrance, "how much dough did they lay down on these restorations?"

"From the looks of things, plenty," Hadley said.

"Ain't this something?" asked Lou Edna.

The entry to the motor court was classic Art Deco. A huge burst of sun rays spanned the width of the drive. Each of the rays held a letter of the motor court's name, thus VISTA was displayed in bright pink neon brilliance with VIEW in neon letters below the rays.

"Who would have ever thought they could have done anything like that with this dump? I can't believe it!" said Maury.

"It's amazing," said Lou Edna. "They've totally transformed this place."

"From gonorrhea gutter to high-class heaven. When we were growing up this place was the butt of a lot of jokes," said Hadley.

"That's because the butts really used to stop here," said Lou Edna.