I had to make a late night milk run last night. My kids have this habit of putting about a teaspoon of milk back in the fridge. I have no idea why they just don't finish it off. Their excuses run from saving it for me so I can have coffee in the morning i.e.so momma is not a rabid witch in the AM or they didn't know it was that low. Since my husband refuses to go out after he has taken his boots off, it was up to me to make that run to the QT.
It was then I caught the late show on the husband's favorite country station. Apparently they had a psychic on. Whodathunk it. A psychic on a redneck station. For some odd reason I have this fascination with psychics. No, I've never been to one. Something about that line in the Bible saying it is a no-no. I'd rather be safe than sorry. I even dated a guy who claimed to be a psychic. He really liked his patchouli oil. Funny, he never saw me dumping his tarot card reading butt.
But, I digress. They had the usual callers. Will this guy ever ask me out? Maybe and the caller needed to focus her energies on people who actually *shock* returned her love. Will I get a promotion at work? Outlook not good, try again later. I think she was making good use of her magic 8-Ball. Then came the country fried redneck caller.
He started out saying that he had been married to his wife for 4 years. They had been sweethearts for a long time. *so far so good* But wait for it, just wait....
She was pregnant. *Cue me saying, uh-oh-this call is about to go downhill* And he didn't think the baby was his.
You could hear a pin drop in the studio. The DJ began stuttering and it must have been contagious because so did the psychic.
She started off by saying that a baby was a wonderful gift and it would need love and support no matter what. Our redneck friend, contested, saying he loved his wife, even if she might have been a trifling hussy-(my words not his). Psychic countered by saying that he would need to love the baby because.....dum de dum dum- it was his baby.
Then our redneck said my title phrase-th' situashun is skeppical . Yes he said it like that. Psychic gave her last word and said it didn't matter if it was his or not. He needed to love the baby. The call was quickly disconnected after that. I think things were getting just a little too deep for the DJ and psychic to handle. Plus I think her 8 ball broke.
What is it about rednecks and psychics. It's like they can't help themselves. From Miss Cleo to Dion Warwick's Psychic Friends Network. Rednecks are calling to ask all sorts of questions. Eager to talk way past the first free 3 minutes. By the way, did you know Miss Cleo was not really Jamaican. She was born in California and she made a killing from everyone, and I'm sure a fair share of rednecks. Eager to find out who was their baby's daddy and would Elmer keep his job at the lumber mill.
Okay, I know I'm poking fun at rednecks. Don't take offense people. I'm a redneck. Born and raised in the deep dirty South, Mississippi. The state that holds the proud title of finishing dead last in any national stats. Besides being a redneck ain't that bad.
We always have ice cold sweet tea in the fridge, plenty of butterbeans, fresh tomatoes, and cornbread and Momma's cathead biscuits ready for company. Just make sure you wipe your feet before you come in off the porch.