I invited Bubba over for a beer to watch the hummingbirds on my new jungle patio. So jungle it is, that I often find myself breaking out in high pitched jungle noises to add to the ambience. After we had downed more than a few beers watching their shenanigans, we remaned them “Little Bastards” watching them zip around the feeder I had hanging over the table. I brought up the news of the day which poor Bubba just didn’t want to hear.
"So Bubba, what’s all this business about Congressman Mark Foley down in Florida? Seems to have become a major political blunder for you and your people."
Bubba was slow to answer. He was utilizing his cowboy way even though he was well aware that I knew that the reason cowboys were slow to speak was because cowboys were slow to think. He set himself upon watching the one hummingbird that hung between us about a foot from our faces.
“Not much there to eat after plucking and gutting that one.” Bubba said ignoring my question. I happened to be thinking along the very same lines having learned too much about the Little Bastards of late. I knew that though the hovering nit of a bird seemed personally interested in us as individuals, it wasn’t. Out mutual insight was immediately validated when it zipped up to the feeder where an a member of the axis of evil had arrived. It tried to impale the interloper through the heart with its narrow rapier beak. Bubba told me he had actually witnessed such a murder when he was a boy.
“Foley! Mark Foley Bubba! They want the Speaker of the House to resign a month before the election! Hello in there."
Lucky for Bubba a major helicopter war broke out in our faces to moot my question. More than half a dozen of the Little Bastards were now in awe and destruction mode. The different pitches of the humming was a exciting! After a fast and furious minute which had us bobbing and weaving because we didn’t want to have an eye put out, our nit of a friend won hover territory over the feeder while the rest sat in the nearby Mimosa tree contemplating their upcoming revenge, which they seemed to forget as they began fighting among themselves for perch space.
“Bubba! Talk to me! Mark Foley! Resigning Speaker! Democrats win the House!” I was doing my best not to overgloat.
“Damn Queers!” Bubba finally replied.
"Well there you have it. And you know, listening to the right-wing talking dufuses on TV wanting the heads of their very own on a platter over this, Bubba had indeed managed to get the whole conservataive ball of wax down to two words. At least Bubba is good at something.