Jist chuck it on the floor and chop it up there, I tell ya. Or use an ol' stump.

Goldanged pantywaists, WASHIN' their cuttin' stuff. Next thing ya know they'll be washin' dishes an' they won't even let a man take a chaw at the dinner. Sissies, ever' one of 'em. 'Fraid of germs, somethin' ya can't even see.

Don't make folks like they useta, no sirree bob! Great-granpa Rufe didn't wash no cuttin' board and he lived ta be a hunert an' twelve or so. Hell, he din't even HAVE no cuttin' board. Used the floor or a stump, like I tell ya to. Fathered twenny-seven kids that we know of, too, ol' Rufe did. Drank two quarts of whiskey and chawed half a pound of terbacker every day of his life, too, even at his mammy's breast. Never took a bath, never even caught the sniffles.

Nosir, they don't make 'em like they useta.

Cuttin' boards....