Posts Tagged ‘pugilistic hen turds’


October 13, 2008

Visiting my brother again.  Hoping for the best, fearing the worst as far as time left with him.  Other family members are also wandering in.  Was lucky this trip to share the visit with two cousins and a niece.  It was very heartening to see how happy it made my brother to have such company.

After a bit of libation (yeah.. yeah… take those feigned shocked looks off of your faces), we began to reminisce a bit.  Being the “oops” child, I was late on the scene compared to my brother and the two cousins.  As such, I listened with rapt pleasure at some of the stories.  A couple were about Pap-pap… my dad’s dad. 

Pap-pap was a farmer born and bred.  My cousins recounted some things he would say.  I’ve no clue if his homey phrases were his or stolen from his grandfather, but there were a couple doozies that were repeated with great glee. 

Now, not really being a farm boy myself, I’m struggling to understand the second two I’ll share here.  But the first?  Having a son of my own… heck, with Daughter Child as well… I truly understand this one:

–  Send a boy, get a boy.  Send two boys, get a half boy.  Send three boys, get no boy at all.

Yep… and having been (well… some say still am at heart) a boy, I do know this one.  Get a couple kids together on a job and they’re more interested in finding the toad or dipping feet in the stream or, when older, talking about girls. 

Again, the other two I’m struggling to understand.  Perhaps someone out there in the blogosphere can help me.  These two phrases were usually provided when Pap-pap wanted to watch the baseball game in peace or just wanted the youngsters out of the house.  He would stare the offending child or children in the eyes and say one of the following (I’ve actually seen both said one right after the other to a particularly annoying cousin):

–  What do you want to do?  Suck an egg?

_  Why don’t you get two sticks and go fight a hen turd?

[Big Grin]  That last one is my favorite.  I’m surely going to save that for my senior-er years to bamboozle and confuse the kids bothering me.

But, those last two also make me wonder if Pap-pap was attacked by a chicken when he was little… such angst against poultry….

There may have been more said, but, given the Scotch that was going down much too easily, was all I could remember. 

Next time?  A tape recorder…