Y'all ain't gonna believe this - we had us a great big earthquake the other day, and it plumb scared me silly. A'course at the time, I didn't think it was an earthquake, I thought it was somethin' far more sinister ...
I was sleeping real sound and all of a sudden the house shook. At first, I thought Clyde farted real big, since he ate four or five bowls of beanie weanies for supper, but when I didn't smell nothing and my picture of Elvis fell off the wall, I knew it was more than butt wind.
The rumbling and shaking lasted a good ten seconds or more (Clyde's record for longest fart is somewhere around seven seconds and that was another reason I knew it wasn't him), and I thought, "Lord have mercy, them Iraqis done found me and are coming to take my pork fat!"
I jumped out of bed, spun open the gun safe, then locked and loaded my shotgun. I crawled on my belly toward the front parlor, hiding from enemy fire. Looking out my plate glass window, all I saw was Fred, my hound, propped up on the porch couch, lickin' his butt.
There wasn't no explosions, the cows were quiet, and none of my neighbors were cranking up their tractors, so I flipped on the TV. That's when I found there was an earthquake! Daggum! The news folks said it was 4.6 on that scale thingamajig.
Thank goodness none of my NASCAR glasses got broke. I got to worrying if we might be in store for another earthquake, so I made me this list of stuff to do, just in case.
You can bet yer britches that I'm gonna keep my ear to the ground. It's a good thang that Clyde never did wake up. He might've flashed back to the time somebody broke in his El Camino and stole his pit road passes to Talladega - whew!
Yup, some things are worse than earthquakes.
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