Been wondering where Ricky has been lately?

still alive 'n not funeralizin' none. Good ol Doc Benway helped whens Ricky wuz so weak he couldn't pull a greasy string outta kittens behind. But nowsadays Ricky's busier than a bee in a tar bucket - hankerin fer to jist take a trip on a Canadian bus ter see if kin git sumthun chewy 'n friendly betwixt mah frunt teeth. Howbout youns?

no Ricardovitz with thar line under him.

Been choppin down dead trees, killin termites with fuel oil and a killin hornets. Gotta git my chores done 'fer I can think on more news stories. All them Yankees and Floridiots gone home and it's right quiet up here. Them city slickers brind thar damn plastic boats and shat up my river. Bunch of animal-humpin, tree-huggin, dumb old hippies - hate 'em!!

Glad they's gone - ain't even no good fer payin rent.

be a gall-darn idjit. That cheeze dun slipt right offn hiz cracker. I tell you whut, he aint been choppin down any old dead trees. Enuff is enuff already. Whytcha jist git afores this real Ricky gives ya a hurtin, fake Ricky?

Silent night, holy night. I think I'll make some spooky sounds...

Cut it out! This place gives me the creeps! One of the hippies or zombies could suddenly leap out of the database before we could make a run for it. Worse than bloody cats!

Idiots!

Got me a heep of wood to chop, now that I done sawed all them dead trees down. Thinkin 'bout borrowin one of them hidrolick log splitters - done tired of coppin wood.

Found me a big old hornet's nest hangin in a tree 'bout 30 paces from my house - gassed it real good. I reckon it to be 'bout 6 inches across. Thar's an old man in Tate City that collects 'em and hangs 'em in his store. He got some big old dead rattle snakes in jars too. Says it keeps the colored folks from comin 'round. Traded 'em fer a new knife and some grape soda.

I ain't got no use fer dead hornet's nests, 'cept when dern deadbeat tenants don't pay no rent. But, I got me a good tenant - pays his rent on time, don't cause no ruckas, don't filth up the place neither. Thar feller keeps to himself - don't never even have to see nor hear him. Don't complain 'bout much neither. Think'n I might trade a week's rent if he'll plant my fall crops fer me - ain't a bad trade.

All them out-of-towners done fished up my spot on the upper Chatooga - but they always throwed the catfish back - so, they aught to be well fed and ready to jump on my hook. Glad to see 'em go - good riddins!

Now I see what all this fuss is over! Shoot, I went to thar flea Market in Mountain City Saturday and the rock-man was rant'n and ravin 'bout them findin bigfoot in the woods, someware 'round Warwoman Dell, I thought.

I figured he wasn't but an old man makin some fun of me like I don't know nothin. Well, I don't have no TV and only get 3 radio stations - mostly country music and gospel. So, the rock-man at the flea market ain't a making fun of me? He wasn't shattin me?

Well, I'll be!

Supposedly there is a whole family of them big foots there in the Georgia woods.

Any of your kin involved Ricky?

I can tell y'all that there ain't no big-foot family living anywheres around Clayton, Tate City, Dillard, Warwoman Dell, Mountain City or such.

I done hiked all 'round these parts, camped here and thar, hunted these parts fer years. Ain't me nor none others of us ever seen any "big foot". Not even any rumors or gossip of such a thing. We got bear, rabbit, deer, wild dogs, fox, squirls, turkey, and morons from big cities who spend thar whole lives lookin fer stupid nothin like Big Foots!

I reckon some Yankee shot himself some kind of retarded bear thinkin it's somethin it ain't. Maybe some freak-bear got half his face tore off by a mountain cat, makin 'em look like some half-eat-up, long-haired, meth-smokin, Yanktard.

Y'all Aussies dern't know the difference 'tween a County and a Town.

I live 'bout 8 miles outside the TOWN of Clayton. Whilst Clayton COUNTY is jest south of the Big City (Atlanta) - 2 hour drive south from Clayton (town).

Now, Clayton County, bein on thar south side of the Big City, where's lots of niggros and heroin-crazed dope-smokers live, is where some meth-smoker claims to have found Big Foot. Tain't nowheres near God's beautiful mountain paridise.

folks, but tain't never no problem with Ricky 'ceptn that it gits ter be a real bitch when yers takn ter be a hairy hill critter or crazy 'tard. Jist prayin fer a trip on a Canuck bus so Ricky kin gits a good feed. Yer kin cuts a head right off a nigra on a bus - buts its still a good feed! Y'all worry none 'bout fake Ricky - Doc benway sez thet thar dawg don't hunt anyways.