3 Wise Men vs the 4 Horsemen

Howdy Doodly Doo, folks. Cletus Clyde here.

I'm your Blogger Foreign Coors-pondent and I travel the backwoods of Appalachia a-snoopin' fer some news what you Yanks might have a hankerin' to read about.

What's that y'all a sayin'? You don't think Appalachia is foreign? Hells bells, down here when it up and gets colder'n than grammaw's privates, we's been a sleepin' four in the bed fer as long as I kin recall.

Anyhow, fer this here report I done decided to give y'all a insider's look at our tradishunal night life. One never knows when some of you Nawtheners might decide to lickety-split come on down here fer yer vacationalizing.

One of the first places I was visitin' was one of them fancy motels, you know, them places what rent out bedrooms fer folks who be a-sneakin' around fer conjugal purposes.

Say! That reminds me of somethin' I heared the other day. Did y'all hear 'bout that new cellar-phone company? Y'all ain't a-goin' to believe this, but they's been offerin' a service jest fer hookers. They's a-callin' it Ho-Tel!

Anyways, I heared tell that this here motel had a bar and a dining room all in one building! All the motels I ever seen was always situated smack in between a beer joint on one side and a Denny's on the other.

I decided to put on my Sunday best overalls, the ones with the big number "8" embrawdried on the bib. I even wiped down my steel-toed clodhoppers and made sure that what was left of that gol-durn cowpile I stepped in was scraped off.

When I walked into that place I was met by this prissy woman who called herself my hostess. I don't rightly knows what kind of perfume she was a-wearin', but she smelled liked somebody done grabbed her by the ankles and dipped her into a tub of the stuff. She said to me, "Walk this way." Now I suspect she wanted me to follow her, but darned if I could figger why she was a tryin' to teach me how to walk. Hell, best I can remember, I was a-walkin' since I was five.

Well by and by I was sittin' down at a table with monogram napkins next to the plate. Clear as a bell it had "Motel 6" writ upon it. You know you are in a fancy eatin' place when they put their names on their napkins!

Y'all ain't gonna believe this one. Darned iffin that hostess didn't start to profitisionin' me. She said, "Would you like a cocktail whilst you're waiting for the waitress to take your order?" Well, I checked her out from head to toe and took special interest in those places what in lie between and decided to play along.

"Sure thing. Whatta ya got?" Well I listened and all she did was to commence naming a bunch of beer, wine and liquors. Well, you gotta get up awful late in the morning to pull a fast on ol' Cletus. I figgered out what her intentions was. She wanted us to have a few drinks before we got down to the carnival stuff.

So I said to her, "Why don't you make a suggestion, honey." Damned if she didn't have knowledge of drinks what's designed to get one horny. She rattled off names like Screwdriver and Harvey Wallbanger before she came up with what she thought was a good one. "I know something you might like," she said. "Sex on the Beach."

So I said to her, I said, "Aw, let's quit beating around the bush, pardon the expression, that Sex on the Beach sounds purty good, but seein as we are nowhere near the ocean, I'll settle for a f**k on the parking lot."

Well, she got real mad-like and jest stormed away from the table and never come back. I guess she didn't like the idea of pokin' on pavement. Anyway, enough 'bout the hostess. After a while another woman came to my table and I reckoned she musta been the waitress. I complemented her that she was doing a bang-up job 'cause she sure kept me waitin' long enough.

The waitress musta not been as horny as that hostess lady was, 'cause she made no in yer windows 'bout my rooster, her tail or sex at all. I settled fer a big ol' cheeseburger, some Tater Tots and a glass of soda pop to wash it all down with. I was disappointed a tad 'cause they had no pork rinds or pickled boiled eggs on the menu.

After my meal and I stretched, belched and ripped off a humdinger of a fart before I got up and moseyed on over to the bar. I was in the mood for somethin' different instead of my usual 16-ounce Pabst Blue Ribbon. I told the bartender I was reviewin' the establishment for a Blog article I was a-writin'. I asked if there was some kind of drink he could make fer me that was like nothin' I ever had before.

Well he musta been pickin' the bottles he poured into that glass usin' one of them scientific methods - you know, sorta like "eeny-meeny-miney-moe," or somethin' like that. He was smilin' like he was real proud of what he placed on the bar in front of me. I tipped that glass and poured it down my throat like it was cough medicine. It musta been five minutes before my mouth and tongue was able to work like they should.

I said to the bartender, "That sure was some kinda drink. What's was innit?"

He laughed and then commenced to tell me what he concocked. "It's called "The Three Wisemen" and it's made by mixin' one-third of an ounce each of Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Johnnie Waler Red." I told him that I was acquainted with all three of those good ol' boys, but it was the first time I ever sat and drank with all of them in the same night. "I said to him that anyone who drank more than two of that drink would not be a very wise man.

He asked if I wanted another. I asked him make me different drink, one what I might never tried before. Well, he went straight to work and poured from four different bottles into the next drink he placed in front of me. Same as before, I poured the whole drink down my throat. I woke up about fifteen minutes after the fact.

While I was tryin' to stop the room from spinnin' and tryin' to make whoever was a-hittin'me in the head with a hammer stop, I asked him what it was I jest drunk.

He said it was "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse." That time he mixed a quarter of an ounce of four ingredients; Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnnie Walker and Jose Cuervo.

I looked at him and I was mad. I told him my friends Jim, Jack and Johnnie would never be caught drinkin' with a Mexican!

There you have it, Yanks. That fancy motel with a bar and diner in the same building, is just one of many attractions y'all can find down here in Appalachia.

So remember, for your vacation plans, remember us friendly folks down here south of the Mason-Dixie. Maybe you too will find out who would win a battle - The Three Wise Men or The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

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