In a Pig's Eye!
by P.W. Rooter
Special Correspondent
September 2001

I was gon' tell you somethin' about teknolagie this time, but I ain't ready yet. I been tryin' to git me a e-mail, but I ain't got the password figgered out. I'm still workin' on it, and if ever'thing works out, next month y'all can communi cate with me. I'm jist about the most modern hawg in the Piney Woods, an' I can't wait 'til I git my own address. (If you're jist hankerin' to send me a message, you can go ahead right now an' send it to the reg'lar address, and mark it to my attention, P.W. Rooter.

Meanwhile, one a' them loggin' boys was runnin' his jaw at the LFA meetin' down in Lafayette the other week, about an ol' logger that died and went t' Hell. (He thought he qualified for the other place, but didn' make it.

The ol' Devil met him at the fron t gate and said, "What you doin' here? We ain't got room fer you right now. We're booked solid. You'll have to come back in about 60 days." This ol' boy didn' want to have to go through all that ordeal ag'in, an' he asked the Devil if they wasn't somethin ' he could do to go ahead and git in.

Ol' Devil said, "Well, ain't they somethin' you always wanted t' do, but never got to while you was alive?" "Yep," said the guy. "I always wanted to be a real, sure 'nough BIG logger. I jist never could git fer enough a head to buy all that nice gear and go really big time."

"Well, all right," says Satan. "We'll set you up for a maximum of 60 days. You can have anything you want, be as big as you always wanted to be." Well, this ol' boy got him about three gre't big track shears, about a half a dozen big ol' double arch skidders, the woods full 'a loaders an' a fleet 'a big trucks an' double bunk trailers, some dozers, an' all the trimmin's. He got out on a big 640-acre clear cut 'a fine timber, and went t' work. He was g ittin' 30, 40, 50 loads a day, an' feelin' fine. Jist 'fore the start 'a th' second week, one mornin' this ol' buy looked up, and here some ol' Satan, headin' across the cuttin' in high gear.

"What's he doin' out here this time 'a th' mornin'?" he wondered.

Ol' Devil come up and called the boy down outta his big crew-cab 4x4. "You gotta go ahead and come on back with me today," he said. "What for? Wasn't we set up for 60 days>?" "You come go with me right now," Satan said. "They ain't enoug h money in Hell to run this job fer 60 days."

(I shore hope that yarn warn't copyrighted. It was told to me for the truth, mostly, and it sounds reasonable.