4 Hicks On a Stick (A White Trash Comic Vol. 2) #72

No preamble; let’s just jump on this Shetland pony and ride it to its forgone conclusion. If you missed Vol. 1 and are feeling lost as a mongoose in July, hit the back button pronto and get your lazy self caught up.

When last we saw our four little boys and girls, they were at Dex and Lucie Mae’s weddin. Fast forward several months and they just moved into their new double wide and are celebrating their first wedded Christmas. Clem, still president of the Padre Island Savings & Loan, along with his trophy wife Viola June, have joined our couples for Xmas Eve dinner. I would show ya’ll the photos (this is a comic book, after all!), but Viola June had 10 too many eggnogs, stripped down buck nekked, and jumped into the paddlin pool, taking the camera with her. So, ya’ll just have to take my word for it!

One week later, the New Year's Eve party is in full swing, when suddenly...

Viola June announces she is with child, and Bud is The Baby Daddy. Mon Dieu!!

Dex attends the very blessed nuptials of Bud & Merle Dean shortly after results of the paternity testing are in. It AIN'T Bud's baby! YEEHAW!!

Soon, we join Bud & Merle Dean on their week-long honeymoon. Our coming along would help these younguns defray some of the expense of the $50 per week swamp cabin Bud had rented,  just outside of Biloxi. The want ad Bud had seen in Hunting World Magazine swore it would be delivered spanking clean and fully stocked. Oh, it was fully stocked alright! Fully stocked with more sex toys than a 1970’s porn flick. We were determined to hold onto our good cheer and sunny outlooks despite the outlines of dried semen decorating the sheets on both beds.

We all got busy with mops and buckets and Clorox, determined to right this cosmic wrong.

Even the anticipation of fried catfish and alligator bites couldn't erase our images of hair-clogged shower drains and dirty towels on the floors.

Hell, even Elvis the puddy cat was finding it hard to party down in this honeymoon hellhole

Uncle Bud valiantly tries to raise his kitty spirits anyway.

By daybreak the next morning Dex and I, along with the newlyweds and Billy and Elvis, jumped onto a swamp buggy and got the hell out of Dodge Biloxi.

Honeymoon Phase 2 found us waterside at Lake Pontchartrain. Who said rednecks can't be spontaneous?

Merle Dean briefly considers switching careers from beauty operator to photographer, but gives up the dream when she can't operate a Fuji disposable.

Merle Dean after taking 2nd place in a Dolly lookalike contest. Or maybe that's just the stack of pancakes she et down at the fire station fund-raiser?

All good honeymoons must come to an end and so it was for Bud & Merle Dean. It is once again holiday time with Dex & Lucie Mae. Merle Dean is so proud of the faux fur she snagged down at the First Baptist rummage sale that she named it Velda after her favorite romance novel heroine.

Merle Dean, still determined to establish the identity of Viola June's Baby Daddy, analyzes a hair she finds on the floor. Results were inconclusive.

Our Merle Dean again, proudly modeling a poinsettia hat of her own design, while simultaneously displaying a strawberry barrett. Don't go all hog wild on those accessories now, hon!

Lucie Mae puts her Lady Speed Stick to the test after performing a wild reggae dance at Bud & Merle Dean's 1st anniversary party. Wanton trollop!

Later, at that same party, after ingesting 23 tequila shots and 11 WU WU shooters, Merle Dean shows us her britches. Bless her heart. If she'd done that when ol Clem was around, she might just have gotten that loan after all.

Well, boys and girls, that pretty much brings this little fable full circle. It's summertime once more and the entire gang gathers on the lawn of Clem & Viola June's trailer park, sno-cone stand, and drive-in movie theatre.

I’d like to report that we all lived happily ever after, but alas, that would be A BIG LIE! Turns out that Dex was Viola June’s Baby Daddy, so I had to do the right thing and put that SOB out of his misery. Father Mike, over at St. Mildred’s, told me what I’d done was so right with God, he only gave me 4 Hail Marys and 2 Our Fathers for penance. Unfortunately, the Padre Island po’ lice didn’t quite see things the same way. Prison really isn’t all that bad. I got my doctorate and a law degree in those 14 years.

Sadly, Clem is now residing with the angels in Heavenly Acres up above. Broken hearted after Viola June’s betrayal with Dex, he went out frog giggin one Saturday night in an attempt to raise his ailing spirits. Understandably tipsy from the stress of his marital deterioration, he tripped over a water moccasin and fell into the stock pond, where he promptly drowned. Guess Merle Dean ain’t ever destined to get that second shampoo station.

The best news that came out of prison is that I married my parole officer, Bobby Ray. Course, rules being what they are and all, they made him quit his job with the prison system. But even that worked out OK. He’s now in DEEP.  Yep, go figure! I married a Doggie Excrement Elimination Professional. I have to say, it looks pretty awesome on the side of the pick up, “If You’re in DEEP, call Bobby Ray–He Shovels It Away“!

Stay tuned, kiddos, because there could be more fun ahead with this frolicking foursome. We are thinking of buying a bowling alley together; heard there’s a fortune to be made in shoe concessions and the luncheonette!!

2 thoughts on “4 Hicks On a Stick (A White Trash Comic Vol. 2) #72

  1. Lord! I am so behind! But looking forward to catching up. If I can get over trying to figure out how I’m going to get myself a Velda fur!

    Inquiring minds want to know – what is frog giggin?!

    • Gurlfriend! It’s when Texas men and boys spend the entire afternoon playing dominoes, drinking longnecks and tequila, and listening to too many sad Hank Williams’ songs. Around about midnight, they drag their drunken butts into pick ups and roar through the farms to the nearest stock tank (a redneck pond), slither up the embankment on their bellies, as stealthily as drunk fellas can, carrying spears on bamboo sticks. They then roll down the embankment, hopefully stopping just short of the water inhabited by water mocassins and cottonmouths (badass snakes!), and attempt to ‘gig’ or stab to death, poor helpless little frogs to take home to the womenfolk to fry up and eat, usually alongside fried okra and hush puppies. Ah, the natural wonders of the great state of Texas!!

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