Dear Bandit… How’s it hangin’? I’m writin’ to let you know I’m alright. I am also sorry I decided to take this little vacation from South Dakota. I mean, you know I am an old California broad… I just couldn’t take no more of that South Dakota winter. When I left your place, I eased on over to Iowa to check on Clean Dean… But now I’m mad at him. See, I decided to spend Christmas with him in his bank he lives in. I gave him a Christmas list with only TWO THINGS on it, Bandit… and he still messed it ALL up.
I guess he read my two requests as one word.. he went and bought me a dadgum Crockpot! Then. he wouldn’t even give me any safe sex in his vault… So I loaded my ol’ dog Jack up in one saddlebag and that Crockpot in the other, and I headed on South, lookin’ for some warmer weather… and wouldn’t ya know it? About the time I got halfway across Arkansas, a damned snowstorm hit! I tell ya, I shoulda just stayed holed up in Sturgis with you! I found me a fleabitten pay by the hour motel in Little Rock that allowed dogs… and the sleet was startin’ to stick to my Panhead as I paid for my room. The toothless old hag at the desk had the tv on full blast on the Weather Channel… and she asked me if I had my milk and bread. What do I need with milk and bread, I says? She got all excited and flustered and goes to telling me how i HAVE TO have milk and bread to survive the snow storm.
Well hell, Bandit, I ain’t ever been through no snowstorm. I ran out to my scoot and headed for the Walmart down the street. Have you ever been in an Arkansas Walmart right before a snowstorm, Bandit? Jeeeeezus Christ in a sidecar. They was a pushin’ and a shovin’ and grabbin’ up that milk and bread like they lives depended on it… So I just jumped on in with the rest of the fat ugly old women and elbowed my way to a coupla gallons of milk and a loaf of bread.
I also grabbed the fixin’s for a pot of my famous pinto beans. Figured I might as well make that damned Crockpot earn its keep… I got back to that hotel and it was snowin’ pretty good as I carried my gear into a room that smelled like cigarettes and desperation. I let ol’ Jack outta the saddlebag and he lifted his leg on a few tires before we holed up to wait out the storm. I dug out the bean fixin’s and put ‘em on to cook…
Then I curled up on the crunchy bedspread with my dog and a doobie to watch a lil’ porn. Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes to the smell of beans and could see the sunrise a’ peepin’ through the curtain. I opened the door to let Jack do his business and there was snow and ice out there knee deep to a tall giraffe! It was gonna be a coupla days before I could leave that room, for sure. We went back inside and I dished us up a coupla coffee cups fulla them beans for breakfast. Jack lapped up his beans and rolled over on his back with his crusty nads in the air and was soon snorin’ and kickin’ in his sleep. I curled up with him and was almost asleep too when all of a sudden, I smelled something… something bad. Something not of this earth… this was a smell like what comes out of a demon’s ass after a night drinkin’ tequila. I jumped up outta that bed gaggin’ and coughin’ and ol’Jack just laid there on his back with a grin on his face, tail waggin’… he was PROUD of that fart..and lemme tell ya, I woulda been too. Just about the time I was able to breathe, he blasted off another round of toxic ass waste.
I ran and got the air freshener in the bathroom and emptied it, and now it smelled like a dog had shit out a rose bush. Then, my own flatulence started. Me and that poor ol’ dog, we was about to suffocate one another with all the ass blastin’.
I decided I wasn’t havin’ them beans for lunch, and so I figured I’d have to figure out how to save myself with that milk and bread. So, I drank the milk and ate the bread, then my ol’ belly rumbled. Then it rumbled again, and I broke out in a cold sweat as I ran for the shitter. Yup.. ol’ Mutha is still lactose intolerant. I bet that ol’ heifer way up at the front desk could smell us. I considered callin’ the fire department to save me, for real. Between the two of us, we could knock a buzzard offa shit wagon. Between the drizzlin’ shits and my fartin’ dog, I ain’t slept a wink. I’m afraid if I go to sleep in this haze of shit, they liable to find me in here naked and dead like Marilyn Monroe.
Thankfully the snow has melted enough that maybe I can head back your way soon. I ain’t hangin’ around down here in Dixie no more.
Sendin’ you my bean recipe… eat at your own risk.
See you soon!
—Mutha
Mutha’s No Soak Pinto Beans
- 1 pound dry pinto beans 2 cups
- 1/4 lb salt meat
- 1 large yellow onion chopped into 1/4-inch dice
- 1 jalapeno cored, seeded, and finely chopped
- 1 ½ teaspoons salt
- 3 cloves garlic minced
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 4 cups chicken broth
- 1 tablespoon sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon cornstarch
Dump it all in the crockpot, and add water to almost the top. Cook for 8 hrs on low…. Enjoy, but don’t feed em to your bulldogs!
