|Why Lucius Barlow
was voted outta office
I am mighty proud to accept my position as Pork Commissioner 'a Louisiana, an' I thank all 'a y'all that thought about votin' fer me, even if my name didn' show up on the official ballot, 'cause nobody even thought 'a runnin' agi'nst me.
I was right ready to jump out an' do a lot 'a 'lectioneerin' but it was more fun to chase down the free deer corn in th' woods, not havin' nobody t' root up mud about an' make a lotta speeches an' stuff. I did h'year from my Uncle, R.B. (That's fer Razor Back) Rooter, up in Arkansaw, where they was a pretty fierce 'lection fer Bridge Tender on the Ouachita River up in his District. Uncle R.B., he weren't runnin' fer nothin' since ol' Bill Clinton had done gathered up all the pork in Arkansas, and weren't nothin' left fer no Pork Commissioner t' reg-a-late. Uncle R.B. has done an' retired, and jist follers politics fer fun now.
Uncle R.B. told me that th' vote fer Bridge Tender was as close as the bark on a hick'ry, and ol' Lucius Barlow was voted outta office by jist one vote, after workin' that Ouachita River drawbridge fer dang nigh 25 years.
After the votes was counted, ol' Lucius got t' figgerin' on how it was he lost, and all he could come up with was, somebody lied to 'im before the 'lection, or, he counted his kinfolks wrong. He 'liminated ever'body 'cept his cousin Derwood. He couldn' hardly believe it, but all he could think was, Cousin Derwood must t' have voted agin'st him.
Lucius, he hung out fer two er three days over at th' Jot 'Em Down store an' post office waitin' fer Derwood to come up. He fin'ly come in t' git a sack a' flour an' a glass 'a Levi Garrett, an' Lucius he collared him an' asked, right out, "Derwood, I been studyin' and studyin' an' I can't figger nothin' 'cept that you voted agin'st me. Is 'at right?"
"Yep, Lucius. Sure is."
"Well, Derwood, we're kinfolks. How come you went the other way?"
"Lucius, I hate t' tell you this, but I jist think you ain't qualified."
"Ain't qualified? What do you mean ain't qualified? Why, I been Bridge Tender on that River fer goin' on near 'bout twenty five years. I was countin' on retirin' after this term. Ain't qualified? PSshhhh....How you figger that?"
"Well, I'll jist tell ya, since you asked," said ol' Derwood. "You 'member last spring when my ol' mule, Jezebel, busted in th' barn an' eat herself such a belly full 'a sweet pataters that she foundered an' got the locked bowels?"
"Yeah," said ol' Lucius. "I rec'lect about that. But what's that got to do with me and politics?"
"Well, I takened ol' Jezebel down to th' vet'narian t' see about doctorin' 'er," ol' Derwood said. "Doctor said, sure 'nough, she's foundered. Ain't nothin' t' do but drench 'er, an' I ain't got th' tools fer that."
"Well, what's it take t' drench a mule?" I sez. Doc said, "It's 'bout like a enema, but takes a lot more medicine. An' anyhow, like I said, I ain't got th' tools."
"What's 'at thing hangin' over that stall there?" I sez. "Aw, that's a old bugle my great-great grandpa carried, way back in the Civil War."
"Well, couldn' we jist use it, and go ahead an' drench ol' Jezebel," I asked. "I ain't never done such a thing, but I reck'n we could try," the Doc said.
"So, we takened th' ol' bugle down and knocked the dust off'n it, and stuck it in place, with the big end out'ards t' catch th' medication. Well, sir, it weren't no mor'n a minute 'er two till that medicine made contact, an' ol' Jezebel made a right smart wind all at once. She looked relieved, but th' noise s'prized her and she jumped up and run off down the road with that bugle still in place, playin' "Reveille" as she went. She run t'wards th' bridge, blowin' that bugle ever' couple a' jumps. Lucius, you didn' even look up. You jist reached over an' opened th' draw bridge. Pore ol' Jezebel run in th' river and drowned.
"So, I made up my mind right then an' there - anybody that can't tell the difference 'tween a steamboat a'comin' and a mule a' pootin' ain't qualified to be th' Bridge Tender on th' Ouachita River."