have a nice day pictures

I’ve got some rednecks in my family and those rednecks have even bigger rednecks for friends.

Several years ago, Little Brother, Cousin Andy and their friend the Hippie went to visit Cousin Andy’s family on Walton’s Mountain. Many members of my family were there, including my parents and other assorted aunts and cousins for the annual fall festival. It was a whole big thing and Little Brother, Cousin Andy and the Hippie decided to go along and raise some Hell.

They spent the better part of the weekend hanging with Cousin Andy’s brother, Cousin Skippy and their friend McV doing redneck things like taking a smashed up Ford Bronco with the top cut off (they had rolled it months before, so why the hell not?) two-tracking over the mountain. They drank a lot of beer and all came back to the D saying “Git ‘er done.” It was a very dark time in my family.

Anyway, after a particularly long night of drinking and carousing, the five got up early, drank some beers and went looking for trouble. Their great idea — well mostly McV and Cousin Skippy’s idea — was to get some guns and head out into the country to shoot some stuff. It was a well thought out plan which basically consisted of McV shouting at them, “Get the beer, get the guns and get your asses in the truck.”

Little Brother, Cousin Andy and the Hippie were a little concerned; apparently they hadn’t drank enough yet, so this didn’t sound like the greatest idea. In Detroit, this kind of plan usually involves shooting a gat out of the passenger window of an Impala and then pouring out some King Cobra for your dead homies, so it wasn’t the way they were used to spending their Saturday afternoon. But in spite of their better judgment, they all hopped in the truck and away they went.

The quickest way to get where ever it was that they were going was to head through downtown, right through the heart of the festival. Also, it would give them a chance to check out the action, after all, it’s not every day that the streets of downtown Walton’s Mountain are packed with tourists.

So as they’re rolled through downtown, McV, steering wheel in one hand, can of beer in the other, saw a pretty girl walking by and decided to lean across Little Brother (who was riding shotgun) and yell at her while honking the horn. Lost in all this leering was the fact that a police officer was directing traffic, standing in the middle of the upcoming intersection.

McV, more concerned with the pretty blonde walking by, rolled right through that intersection and damn near hit the cop, swerving just in time.

Little Brother said he wasn’t sure if it was the beer, the loaded guns or whatever else any of them may or may not have been carrying, but McV did what you’d expect a young man who had just nearly hit a cop while doing about 15 other illegal things would do; he ran.

Now this wasn’t any kind of O.J.-style police chase through the bustling streets of Walton’s Mountain, McV ran just long enough to toss the beer can into the bed of his truck and instruct the Hippie sit on top of the loaded rifle and Cousin Andy hold the .45. Once he’d hidden the evidence under two terrified out-of-towners, McV pulled the truck over.

So Little Brother was now in full freak out mode, convinced that he was going to pound-me-in-the-ass prison.

The cops, because they weren’t total morons, were on to them immediately. The guys reeked of beer and were sweating like R. Kelly at a Girl Scout meeting — it was obvious that they were up to something. One of the officers ran their IDs while the other had to listen to a very convincing story about how they they definitely hadn’t been drinking that morning and that the reek of booze and the hundred empty beer cans in the bed of the truck were from the night before.

Little Brother had a lot to think about in those few minutes. Would our parents walk by and see them? Would the cops search the car? He said that he was absolutely convinced that he was going to end up in jail that day, but all’s well that ends well, because for some reason the officers let them go.

Little Brother isn’t exactly sure what happened — maybe they got another call or maybe they just didn’t feel like doing all the paper work involved in booking a bunch of out-of-towners — whatever the case, they were let off with a very stern warning.

As they climbed back into vehicle, the officer handed them their IDs and said to McV “If I see you driving through town again today I will stop you and you will go to jail.” There was no need for a warning, Little Brother said, there was no way in Hell they were coming back to downtown Walton’s Mountain any time soon.