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Date:         Tue, 12 Jan 1993 14:28:00 -06
From:         Dana Rollins <ROLLIDE@AUDUCADM.DUC.AUBURN.EDU>
Subject:      LIFT AND SEPARATE

A PARABLE

"At Kentucky Fried Chicken/we do chicken right!", blared the commercial
as Renfro Siddins, a large red rooster, rose to his full height and
strode with conviction across the hen house floor and up the little
walkway to the windowsill where Farmer Brown's 9-inch Sony television
- the one that his late wife Murine and the kids had given him for
Veteran's Day - was blasting away at a volume much too loud for the
poor fowls delicate conditions.

"Rat's ass to ya," crowed Renfro, kicking the tv set off the ledge.

There was a loud crash and clatter and for several seconds afterward
the sound of a 9-inch Sony television having just a lousy time of it
in general, followed by a quiet stillness that was almost overwhelming
in contrast..........................................................

"Harumph" thought Renfro, yawning and stretching, "that's more like it.
We do chickens right my ass..."

Meanwhile, over in the outhouse, Lo Brown, the farmer's oldest boy, was
hitching up his britches and wondering what had happened to the sound
on the The Guiding Light program, to which he'd been listening as he
scanned the brassiere ads in the latest Sears catalogue.  Throwing open
the outhouse door, he extinguished his Hav-a-Tampa Jewel on the sole of
his bare foot and stomped his way over the dirt clods and cow pies of
his youth to the chicken coop where even now a squad car was screeching
to a halt.

"Lo Brown?!" shouted Sheriff Jones, even though he was only a few
inches away from him now and had known him since he was this tall.

"Howdy, She'f!" answered Lo in a good natured sort of way.

"Don't you lie to me, boy!  Git up against that wall - NOW!" hollered
Sheriff Jones, angered at the familiarity.

"But, She'ff," said Lo, remembering this time to insert the extra f,
"What I done got mysef inta NOW?"

"Come own, son.  Yune me both know you been engaging in unlawful inna
course with these here CHIGGENS!", said Farmer Jones in a smug way as
he popped his suspenders, twirled his bow tie and winked to the video
camera crew from A Current Affair, "Now let's you and me not have us
anymore trouble afore I have to take out this little "Persuader" here
that they made me over to the school shop class..." and so saying,
removed from behind his flak jacket a large menacing device with cruel
thingamajigs and brutal jimmiejobobs.
"It ain't in NO MOOD for argymints and I DAMN SURE ain't, neither!" he
added, spitting a huge wad of Days Work Chewing Tobacco squarely on the
cracked and smoking screen of the 9-inch Sony television, which lay
shattered and electronically bleeding by the hen house, where Renfro
and the little biddies crowded together at the window, mumbling in an
unruly fashion and shouting out things like,
"Yeah! That's it!", "Give him what' comin' to him!", "String the lousy
bastard up, Sheriff!" and "Kill that stupid sonofabitch!"

Fearing the worst, Lo chose to make a break for it and, whirling, ran
back toward the imagined sanctuary of the outhouse.

"Let's get him, boys!" yelled the Sheriff, and he and the deputies
chased Lo into the little building, shutting the door behind them.

An awful ruckus filled the air, followed by a quiet stillness that was
twice as overwhelming as even that last one I told you about..........
.....................................................................

"Hey, She'ff," sniggered one of the deputies an hour or so later, when
it was over, "looky here!"

The Sheriff glanced at the brassiere ad the deputy was holding and
winked, "Lift and separate, huh?  Well, I reckon I got something that
can do all that liftin and separatin for her, IF YOU KNOW WHAT MEAN!"

"Haw, haw, haw!" chorused the deputies.

*** Epilogue ***

Hours later, when Farmer Brown and Lum, his other son, came back from
town on the family tractor, they were immediately struck by the quiet
stillness that still lingered.

"What ya reckon it means, Paw?" asked Lum, his ears wiggling furiously.

"Durned if I know, Lum," squinted Farmer Brown.  Let's us see if we
cain't find Lo..."

One thought occurred and was shared on a nearly equal basis by both of
them.  "The outhouse!" they shouted, almost simultaneously.

Racing inside, they felt around for any clue of the missing Lo.

"Lum, you find anything?" shouted Farmer Brown, even though he was only
inches away and had known his son since he was this tall.

"No, Paw.  Only the catalogue book and this here cantaloupe!"

"Cantaloupe?" intoned Farmer Brown, "Lemme see that cantaloupe, son."

Ya'll know those quiet stillnesses I've been chucking out at you?
Well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you how long this one was!

What seemed like hours later, Farmer Paw Brown screamed in terror,
"Why-- This ain't no cantaloupe, Lum!  It's-- It's LO'S HEAD!!!"

The moral of the story is:
Hey:  Turn that goddamn tv down!
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