Now, ya see, these days we don't dig them postholes. Nossirree! We just does one of two things. The first is that we git Little Davey ta come round. We show him where we want the holes, and Little Davey punches one with his bare fist. We pay him fifty cents fer each hole, and they's allas deep enough cuz Little Davey's arms are six feet long. Don't hurt him none to do it, neither, cuz of his knuckles dragging on the ground all the time has built him up one BIG set of calluses. We call him "Little Davey" seeing as how he's only four feet xix inches tall.

And the second way is a bit more wasteful but a helluva a lot of fun. We jist scoops the dirt down to rock, pile some unwrapped dynamite on it, sandbag the dynamite real good, shove in a blasting cap and some fuse, light the fuse, and run like hell. Works great. One time Stinky got aholt of some stuff called "cratering charges" from the Army Surplus store in Dunn. Suckers were pretty heavy -- musta weighted fifty pounds or so each. Anyway, Stinky figgered that iffen they could blast holes in concrete like he'd heard they could they'd be good for makin' postholes. He sat up about six or eight of 'em in a row, right where he wanted the holes, stuck the caps and fuses in, and lit the fuses. Only what he didn't know was how powerful them Army explosives were. They blasted a line of holes better'n six foot deep in a line where the craters overlapped each other. Then the bottom fell out, cuz Stinky had blown them off over some kinda fault or somethin'. Anyway, everything started fallin' in, and right soon all that was left was a hole that looks like this. nowadays.