Gut Rumbles
 

November 24, 2006

Don't do it

Originally published April 11, 2005

The Book of Genesis in the Bible has always troubled me (so does the story of Job, but I don't want to digress here). When I was about 12 years old, we went to visit Aunt Chassie's farm, which was WAAAAY back in the mountains. You had to ford creeks with no bridges and drive down a pot-holed dirt for miles to get there.

It was a big place and very intriguing for a 12 year-old. That's where I first got spurred by a pissed-off rooster and where an angry bull ran me up an apple tree. I also got royally cussed for feeding one of the many dogs that slept under the front porch. (Those were WORKING DOGS. They were supposed to catch their own food.)

My cousin Ernie and I were partners in crime at that stage of our lives. Chassie had an apple orchard, but she also had a lot of apple trees in the cow pasture, where she also had one mean-ass bull. That sumbitch had a set of cojones on him that resembled two cantelopes in a leather sack, and when he became aroused, his dick was bigger than a Louisville Slugger baseball bat. He serviced all the cows and he was very protective of his harem.

Ernie and I were told that we could pick and eat all the apples we wanted from the orchard, but we should STAY OUT of the cow pasture.

Here's where the connection with Genesis applies. As soon as we were told NOT to eat the apples in the cow pasture, those apples suddenly looked better, sweeter and jucier than anything we saw in the orchard. We wanted a couple of THOSE apples--- you know, the ones we weren't supposed to touch. Forbidden fruit is always sweeter.

Ernie and I did pretty much the same thing Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden. God (Aunt Chassie and our parents) told us to leave the forbidden fruit alone. We immediately developed a craving for it.

So, we hopped the fence and went running through the pasture to pick some apples off the forbidden trees. We were doing good until that bull spotted us, and he became righteously indignant. He charged, and we took to a tree to get away from him.

That bull was blowing snot out of his nose that resembled Silly String fired from an aerosol can. He pawed the turf and butted the tree. He wanted to KILL US, while his incredible testicles almost dragged the ground.

I had this all figured out in my 12 year-old mind. I told Ernie, "He'll get bored in a little while and wander away. Then, we can climb down and hop back over the fence." Yeah, right. About four hours later, we started yelling for help while the bull still patrolled the bottom of the tree.

The bull had a ring in its nose and I saw my Papaw open the gate and start walking across the pasture. He had a chain with a hook on it draped over his arm.

He walked up to that snorting bull, put the hook through the ring in its nose in one expert motion, and then led a suddenly docile bull away. "You boys get down outta that tree and get back to the house," he yelled, as he escorted the bull away. We climbed down and ran, hopped the fence again and went back to the house.

Boy, did we get our asses tore up for that bit of mischief. I think we got spankings from everybody in the house at the time. ("You finished? Okay give ME a shot at his ass now!")

I learned a lesson about Forbidden Fruit that day. If you go for it and get caught, you're in one heap of trouble. DON'T DO IT!!!

But to this day, I still look over that fence and see sweeter apples than the ones I can pick with no risk. I still ignore the bull and hop that fence. I'll take my chances with being treed or suffering an ass-whuppin.' But I gotta have that sweetest apple, the one I'm not supposed to get.

That's pure human nature in MY humble opinion.

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