Hey, Zeb here. Y’all know it’s generally Lew what does the writin’ because he’s the smart one, or so he says. Well, that’s not the case this week.
Lew is still lickin’ his wounds from this past week when we locked horns with Black Friday. I’m a guessing that it’s called this because of how dark a person’s heart becomes over thinking they can save money on things they don’t have that they don’t need anyway. Me and Lew was settin’ in Pap’s Barber Shop when we got the news that the sale of all sales was hittin’ the town. There were sales on all the man stuff like tools, fishing plugs, hound dogs, haircuts, cars, trucks, guns, pants – you know the man stuff. There was also stuff fer women like tools, fishing plugs, hounds, haircuts, cars, trucks, guns, dresses – you know woman stuff.
Ol’ Jesidiah that lives on Culpepper Hill was havin’ the sale on dogs. We around here call him Werewolf cause he looks like one aside from being bald as a cucumber. He has near 37 hound gyps that has litters ‘bout this time of year so he ends up with about 200 or so baby hounds that he sells at a fraction on Black Friday. Early Friday mornin’ before 6:00, he set the hounds to howlin’ and it sounded like Lee tryin’ to take Gettysburg on that hill that mornin’. It was neighbor against neighbor as they scaled the mountain in search of the hounds. There hasn’t been feuds in this area for years but they were renewed that mornin’. A medical unit was sent up to take care of the wounded, and they stayed busy all mornin’. The wounded was at the base of the hill swearin’ vengeance against the ones that made it to the top. People are already callin’ it a Black Friday war for the hounds.
Me and Lew decided we would take the truck into town and get away from the rough stuff. They were havin’ a sale on fishin’ plugs and other outdoor gear at the trading post called the Last Chance for Trades and Stuff, so called because it was the only one in town. It is a pretty big building housing all kinds of good stuff. We had no idea that there were so many people in the county. By the time we hit town, we had nearly 20 people in the back of the truck wanting a ride to the Last Chance. Lew was swerving all over the road trying to miss the people that wasn’t in the back. By the time we got near the store, we knew what Armageddon was gonna look like. We also knew we were not in Kansas anymore. There were fights over on the south side of the parking lot over parkin’ space. Only the strong was survivin’. There were men who had their wives ridin’ piggy back. There were women who had their husbands by the legs like a wheel barrow ramming their way through the crowd. The store owner called in some retired military to shield the front doors till the 6 AM opening.
Me and Lew got into position with our sale paper in hand. When the doors opened, it was like a dam busted and anything that wasn’t tied down or heavy enough was at the mercy of the crowd. Lew was one of those causalities; he disappeared into the crowd like a bottle goin’ out to sea. I made it to the fishing plugs but during the pushin’ and the shuvin’ and the swearin’, I spotted Lew on the floor. He had more shoe prints on him than the welcome mat at the diner. I was able to pull him free, put him over my shoulder and made my way to the door. When I got to the outside, it looked like a tornado went through the parking lot. We boarded the truck and I hit the gas. Doomsday Friday, as we call it now, was a once in a lifetime trip for us. They said later that all the dogs got loose on Culpepper Hill, and it would take five years for the hill to recover. They had to shut down Last Chance for repairs. Call it Black Friday or Doomsday Friday, either way me and Lew will pay the full dollar on Saturday.
