Rufus, you ol' dawg! How th' hell's it hangin'? Did you an' Retha May git them lef'over MRE's I sent with Bubba an' Jim Bob when they come t' visit? I shore hope them boys didn' eat all them thangs afore they got t' yore place.

Hey, man, we got's th' coolest Chrismus deckerations this year. Ya know thet ol' Plymouth tha's been sittin' up on blocks in th' back yard fer years? Well, we drug thet mother out t' th' road an' rapped a buncha Chrismus lites aroun' it an' stuck ol' Santee Claus in th' driver's seat an' filled th' backseat up wif rapped up empty boxes thet look like prezents. It's reely cool. Peeple drives by an' ya kin hear th' liddle kids sayin' "Look, Maw! It's Santer Claus! An' he's drivin' a 1972 Plymouth! How come? Don't Santer drive a slay." An' ya kin hear they Maw say "He only drives a slay up nawth, shooger. It gits too danged hot fer them raindeer of his'n down 'ere. But Santer don' always drive a ol' Plymouth. Sumtime he drives a Harley hard-tail." An' sumtimes they Maw'll jus' go on an' on an' sumtime she jus' like t' watch them Chrismus lites blinkin'.