Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

By The Erudite Redneck (circa 2019)

(Best read while imagining Grandpa McCoy or the grandpa from "Rugrats" or, better yet, an aged "Bones" from Star Trek ...)

Why yessirreee indeedy, little YankeeBeau Jr. and Birdette, I have lived through some minor-plus floodin' in my day.

Back in ought-ought seven one time twice in as many months I had to open the front gate to the back 40 (that's 40 square yards: the back yard, minus the used-to-be vegetable garden, now native prairie wilderness protection area, and minus "the shed," which a former owner started out to be a small greenhouse, apparently, but never got the walls up) -- where was I?

Oh yes. Back in ought-ought seven it rained so much that spring, twiced, that I had to open the front gate to the back 40 to let the water flow from the back yard down the side yard and into the front yard and out into the street, where the water was already purt-near over the curb.

Had to use the sand tubes, again, procured last winter for the back of the truck on all them ice and sleet storms, to block the water from gettin' through the side walk-in door to the garage.

Yep, before openin' the floodgate, I did herd the domestic livestock up into a gatherin pen -- the sun room -- so they wouldn't either make good their escape or just float away. Y'alls' Grandma Dr. ER had done already headed for high ground, up in Colorado, leavin' me to care for the critters, see.

Poor little Bailey -- he who must actually have a short-yellow doghouse, one of these days -- looked like a furry four-legged fowl ploppin' through the river betwixt "the shed" and the house: plop, plop, plop, plop went his little feet, as he used the independent suspension God gave a goose, minus the natural buoyancy.

Poor little -- heh-heh, poor little Riker's butt. The boy was not amused as he lept over tiny eddies and rivulets to get to warmth and dryness. As he walked through the sunroom door, he looked at me out of the sides of his eyes, as if to say, "Wait till my mommy (Dr. ER) finds out," then tossed a glance over his shoulder that said, "And don't think I won't tell her! Harrumph!"

Ice-T, of course, was oblivious to it all, or mildly bemused -- although he might've wondered why his daddy left, then came back and moved those nasty, smelly dogs into the house -- as the sun room is generally regarded by sundry domestic livestock.

YankeeBeau Jr., Birdette, you little sprouts, it reminded me of an old, old, outdated movie (to you young'uns): "Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home," which came out back in '86, the year y'alls' Mama Bird was born.

To save the Earth from an alien probe that was muckin' up the weather somethin' fierce, causin' it to rain and storm nonstop, Kirk and crew went back in time to retrieve the only critters that could communicate with it, two humpback whales.

I kept thinkin' -- we still got a few humpback whales left: Somebody beam a couple of them critters up!

--ER