One year, a group of guys from Indiana and the hills of Kentucky showed up. They lived in a beat up old truck. They also brought along two rotten, old, dirty canvas tents and looked a bit on the hobo-ish side. They were hillbillies and they admitted it being perfectly content as they were. They came to go fishing on Jasper Lake and Wood Lake and were gone all day long every day. They'd come back with fish and eat them for dinner.
They were a fun group with lots of stories, but I remember one of the scruffy bunch in particular. His name was Parker Morgan. Parker was older (I was 12 so that means he was probably 30), missing a few teeth and spoke with a real Kentucky drawl. I had a hard time understanding him. He was always happy, nothing really bothered him very much and if it did, he'd fix it. If it got too hot "settin' in the sun, wellll, move to da shade! Don't set there a-whinin'. " Well, Parker would actually whine once in a while, as well.
One of the other guys with Parker was a more pugnacious individual by the name of Joe Cox. Joe was always a part of the group and I was always a little afraid of him. He had big round belly, and an anti-attitude about darn near everything especially the government. He did tell a good story and was full of them. My favorite was about Parker Morgan at deer camp with Joe and the rest of those hillbillies.
It was evening at deer camp somewhere in the hills of wherever these guys were all from. It was Joe Cox, Parker Morgan, Junior, Gary, Bubba, Larry and Jimbo. After a hard day of hunting, the group was back at camp in the shack in them there hills. They'd done ate dinner and gas lights were burnin' soft as the guys sat around drinkin' beer, fartin' and playin' cards. In that rough old shack, they was laughin' and cussin' and playin' penny poker. Nobody had a lot of money, ya see, but they's havin' a real fun time wherever they went. Parker Morgan was the only one not playing. Parker couldn't read and didn't much like games all that much so he's over on the other side of the room, just a settin' there on a bunk listening to the guys play.
After a while, Parker said, "Whooee...ma hair's long. Anybody bring some scissors? Ma hair is loooonnngggg."
"Parker...we are at deer camp. Nobody done brought no scissors. What the hell for?" said one of the guys.
Parker went silent for a spell. Then Parker started up agin. "But, ma hair is so loooonnngg! Ya sure nobody brought along a fine pair of scissors? I neeeeeed to cut this hair. It's drahvin' me crazy! It's looonngg".
Parker went silent for a spell. Then Parker started up agin. "But, ma hair is so loooonnngg! Ya sure nobody brought along a fine pair of scissors? I neeeeeed to cut this hair. It's drahvin' me crazy! It's looonngg".
"Parker, SHUT UP and just set there! We don't got no scissors. We're playin' poker! You're just gonna have to put up with it!" yelled one of the guys.
With a grunt, Parker went silent again.
A few minutes later, the smell in the room went from farts, sweaty feet and old underwear to a MUCH stronger smell and a cloud of smoke. "What's that smell?!!!" Junior asked with a bit of alarm.
The first thing they all thought of together was the wild card in the room: Parker! Everybody turned over to look at him and he took upon hisself the move of a desperate man. He was standing right there next to the bunks looking at a dirty ol' mirror that was tacked up between the studs. His hair had been on fire and making a cloud of smelly smoke somethin' awful! By the time the guys looked over, Parker was furiously patting out the flames with his bare hands. He successfully put out the fireball that was his head while standin' in front of that ol' mirror. All the guys at the table were speechless with their mouths agape. Nobody even moved.
When the smoke cleared enough, in the din of the gas lights, Parker examined his stylin', lit by his own hand in the mirror. He turned his flame-burned head from right to left while sayin' happily, "Wellll! That ain't half bad!"
They had to open all the windows and the door to let the smell of burnin' hair out of the shack. It was downright terrible!
When the smoke cleared enough, in the din of the gas lights, Parker examined his stylin', lit by his own hand in the mirror. He turned his flame-burned head from right to left while sayin' happily, "Wellll! That ain't half bad!"
They had to open all the windows and the door to let the smell of burnin' hair out of the shack. It was downright terrible!
Everybody got back to playin' poker and Parker went back to settin' on that bunk. That was the last time they ever took Parker anywhere again - without bringin' along a proper pair of scissors.
