Everything is bigger in Texas.
That's how the saying goes at least. It's true too,
but most folks don't brag about it none. Shoot, most
Texans don't even notice things are bigger. Mostly cause
that's just the normal size things are 'round here.
Take fishin' fer instance. Most folks, when they go fishin',
least-wise in other states, they're happy when they catch
a two 'er three pound fish. Here in Texas we jest fling
'em back unless they's at least ten pounds. 'Taint
nuthin' ta mosey down ta the crik for a spell, pull
seven 'er eight fiften pound catfish out and head home
I'm not partial ta' fishin' myself. Gets borin' too fast.
I want'a be up 'en doin' stuff. But my cousin, Lulu-Bell,
she was the fishin'est gal I ever seen. Every day durin'
the summer there was never anywhere you could find her
'cept down at the crik pullin' catfish out by the
bucketfull. She fished so much that purtty soon there
weren't but small 'uns in the crick. Nuthin' bigger'n
about seven pounds. That didn't stop her though, she'd
jest pull 'em out, and toss 'em back, then do it again.
Well that would'a been the end 'a the story, cept it's
not. See the crik, it ran down ta' the Colorado and joined
up 'neath a big 'ol overpass bridge. Water was always
dangerous there, kids didn't go swimmin' in it cause
too many of 'em had jumped in an never come up again.
Bodies vanished and all. Folks figured there was some
kind of underground river that sucked 'em down, so they
put up signs and kept the kids away.
Lulu-Bell, she figured that's where all the fish'd gone
that summer and she planned on catchin' a few more 'a
the big'ins. She talked me in ta coming along, jest ta
bait the hooks and watch fer rattlers. I should'a knowed
better, bein' as it was Lulu-Bell's idea, but in a moment
'a insanity, I said yes.
Four 'o clock in the mornin' ain't my idea of a good time
ta do nuthin' but sleep. She wanted ta get ta the fish while
they were of the same opinion though, so she dragged me
out into the dark and we headed down to the Colorado.
Now before I go any further, let me explain' sumin' else.
Lulu-Bell, when she weren't catchin' fish, was muddin'. She
had the biggest, baddest 4X4 in the entire state. It sat
up on three lift-kits and ya needed a ten foot ladder jest
ta get into the thing. She'd had some outfitter shop
weld a couple high-dive ladders she'd got from a pool that
was closin' onto the runnin' boards jest so she didn't
hafta carry a ladder a round with her.
This truck now, not only was it set up ta mud, but she'd
bought a big 'ol wench and mounted it in the bed. Used it
fer pullin' stumps and draggin' the deer other folks hit
on the road in winter.
So here we was, up in that truck, roarin' down the high
way at 4am, toward the Colorado river. Radio was blarin',
Lulu-Bell was rattlin' on 'bout all the fish she was
sure was hidin' in that ol' swimmin' hole and I was
tryin' ta get a few more z's.
We come around a curve and dead in the road ahead of
us was this little import thing.