Mad Jack Hanks
Wellington, Colo.

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April 14, 2014
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Mad Jack Hanks: Tales From the O-NO Ranch 4-14-14

Most folks that get a little “wasted” or a lot “wasted” somehow get the notion that thay are required to entertain whom ever is around them. That just happens to be one of the pitfalls of being beyond their limit of sober understanding.

Have I been drunk before? You querry ... yes, of course. When I was young, single and stupid, I have been exactly like the folks mentioned above. And gentle readers, I am not boasting about it.

My dad, being an ex drinker and a pillar of the community and a deacon in the Baptist Church was often disappointed by his youngest son, yep, that being me when I would come home from a night of drinking.

I remember that night I walked in the front door and puked in the living room on mom’s new carpet. She came in and bless yer heart, cleaned up my mess, as I stumbled off to bed apologizing all the way. Man I wish there were “do overs” in our life time so we could make right all of those mistakes we made as we “did our thing.”

After I got married it was rare if I drank at all. If I did it was a can of beer after a hot morning of branding calves or something similar. I didn’t keep any alcohol in our home and “Little Miss Martha” was all in favor of that.

I have had a few encounters with drunks in the past few years. Nothing serious other than having to physically remove one guy from my chair at the dance hall. The manager had him tossed and apologized for me having to get involved.

Recently a street bum came in the dance hall early and was wandering around pestering folks. He could have been mistaken for a working man who had just come off the job as he was dirty and smelled as if he hadn’t had a bath for a few days. He came to my table bringing me a glass of water as he noticed that was my drink of choice at the time.

“Ya don’t mind if I sit down do ya?” he blurted out with a big smile on his face.

I coined him as a con man right away. “I reckon you can sit for a minute,” I quitely offered.

“I’m lookin’ for a job ... I’m a truck driver!”

“Well, I’m not hiring so you’re in the wrong place,” I shot back.

He just stared at me and ask me if I knew so and so and so and so and I replied that I didn’t.

“Pard if you’re a truck driver you need to go to the oil patch up in North Dakota cause there’s lots of jobs up there.

“I ain’t stupid, feller,” he boasted. “You’re trying to send me down to Denver and I ain’t going back down there!”

“No, I’m trying to send you to North Dakota if you really want a job,” I glared back eye to eye.

He tried the old “stare ’um down” trick but it wasn’t working so he slapped me on the back and offered, “I didn’t come over to irritate ya, so I’ll be going,” he said as he got up.

I came up with, “Yeah, well be careful,” and that was the last I had to deal with him.

Not so with many of the other patrons as he went from table to table most likely trying to get someone to feel sorry for him and buy him a drink. I often find myself on the short end of holding my cool when a drunk refuses to leave me alone. So far so good I reckon. Being sober is so much more fun.

If you are one of those guys or gals that likes to get drunk and stupid, trust me, only your drunk and stupid friends are glad that you’re there! That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion, don’t drink and drive as it might be me you run over ... and I’ll c y’all, all y’all. ❖


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The Fence Post Updated Apr 10, 2014 02:14PM Published Apr 28, 2014 02:43PM Copyright 2014 The Fence Post. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.