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Where Is The Roadkill Festival ~ Toad Suck, Arkansas

Dear Susan,

Regrettably John and I will not be able to attend your retirement gathering because of an unfortunate incident with a piglet behind a huge oak tree that landed us in the county lockup in Toad Suck, Arkansas.

It all started when we aimed the Pinto towards Biloxi, Mississippi for some innocent gambling. We were well on our way when we noticed a handcrafted sign on the restroom wall at the Arkansas state welcome center, “Watch what Crystal can do with a warthog at the road kill festival”. And as everyone knows, the best road kill festival is in Toad Suck, Arkansas.

Anyhow, as soon as we arrived in Toad Suck, we immediately started sampling delectable culinary delights like possum paws, groundhog nuggets (don’t ask) and deep-fried polecat ears. By the way, this year’s top chef was one-eyed Harold, for his famous lizard limbs marinated in lard butter.

Naturally, we figured that the perfect complement to such mouth-watering cuisine would be the local brew. And by this time we had given up our quest for Crystal and the warthog when we stumbled across a guy selling a clear liquid in mason jars out of the back of a 1939 Ford pickup. At first the liquid had a sting but after the 5th jar we were well on our way to feeling no pain. That’s when John decided he needed to pee.

I guess he figured that the biggest oak tree in the center of town was enough cover. Although why he felt he needed to drop his pants to his ankles is beyond me. And that’s when the piglet comes in the story. You see when John passed out, he fell to the ground in a sitting position with his back against the tree. Unfortunately, when he landed on his naked butt, the Mason jar he was holding landed right between his legs. Well out of nowhere, like trailer trash to a 100% off Salvation Army sale, a little piglet came flying up and started drinking the clear liquid from John's jar.

Just as the little pig consumed the last ounce of John’s brew the local sheriff yelled over a loudspeaker, “Boy don’t you know it’s against the law to get a pig under the age of two drunk in Possum County”? Unfortunately, John came back to life just in time to shout, “What are you going to do Boss Hog, attack Fort Sumter again?

We will be released in about 10 days and make no mistake about it, next year we’re sticking to something safe like the Great American Cooter Festival in Inverness, Florida. Got to go, the bed bug races are about to start two cells down.

Hope you had fun reading my story, Mike A, GetMyTips

About This Story

This was an email, sent as a lark, to a friend of mine Susan Martin, referring to another friend of mine, John Bostwick, both of whom passed away, way too soon. Michael A