When Southern's meet.

[PhillipLaSpino]

A shawt story. When Southern's meet.


I was looking along the docks at a half dozen trawlers that were tied along-side. Anglers carrying their rods and reels were coming in with their catch of the day. As I approached this one particular boat, I saw the Captain standing on board stowing away lengths of rope. I was told there was no-body in the whole state of Florida who could catch shark like this Captain.


A man from Alabama wearing seer-sucker-shorts, and a flowered shirt approached the boat called the Brenda Sue. She had sailed by way of Louisana.


Following is a conversation I overheard between the three men, one a red-neck from Alabama, the other two born and bred in the southern part of Lousiana.


The man from Alabama said to the Captain. “Im Depty Shurf, ya know, a po-leece man, come down heer in my Shovelay wit my dawg to do some fishin. I was tolt you know how to catch sharkk.”


Captain said, “Shore do, I lassoes “em.”


Depty Shurf, “Yall lasso em, is dat what yall said?”


Captain, “Yah, I jis’ drop a shubbelful o’ fish off de stern an drop a noose rope in frond o’ de fish.”


Depty Shurf, “Yall trow the fishes in the water, and rope ta catch sharkk?”

Captain, “Yep! Den de sha’ak dash in to git um fishes an’ I pull de noose.”


Depty Shurf, “Aint’ that the darndest thang.” Do it always wuk?”


Captain, “Shore doz, I ketch one ten-footer dat-a-way.”


Depty Shurf, “Maybe un day I goez with yall, and cyst you to ketch some them their sharkk.”


The Captain nodded his head, and continued, “An’ anudder day I lasso two s’a'ak at de same time in one noose tergedder.”

Depty Shurf, “Quit cuttin the fool, yall must been plum wore out?”


Captain, “Na, tuz easy!”


A deck hand was standing on the bow. He was extremely excited, and was pointing a finger at a tree off to the side of the boat. A Blue Jay could be heard making a loud racket.


The deck hand shouted, “Enty yum shum, bubbuh? Uh sway Uh yeddy um duc cry oout like he bex puntopuh dat simmon tree behine de shemuckle bush. Mek’ace, cum yuh en yuh binnuh sho for shum fuss thing.”

Translated, he told the captain, “Don’t you see him, brother? I swear I hear him crying out as if he were vexed, up in that persimmon tree behind the sea-myrtle bush. Make haste, come here and you will be sure to see him first thing.”


Captain, “Trow stone at um, scar em off.”


The po-leece man was bad to leaf now; an wass plum wore out. He turned to the captain and said, “I’m beholden to you fer da infeemation. I wont ast you butt one moor qestin. Where kin I gett some fried out fatback, n’ eggs heer in town?”


The captain pointed up the street, and the Shurf departed. He said to himself, “I hope ta die, I figures I needs a shot of likker ta settle my nerves aft dat talk.” He looked back at his dawg and hollored,
“Hyuh, boy, hyuh.”


Phil LaSpino