I Blame the Bubbas

I have moved to the country. And when I say country, I mean country. You can tell if you live in the country by what you find on the road when you take a walk. While walking my dogs down to the creek recently, I found the following items:

1. A shotgun shell
2. Eight beer cans
3. One pair of mismatched socks

These items weren't present just two days prior, so I knew they were recent. In my goody-goody opinion, guns and beer are not an appropriate combo. But then again, I have a marble fireplace and a taste for the finer things. I'd rather read a good book and have a nice glass of Merlot than shoot anything. None of the treasures found on my walk were my discarded items, obviously. So, with every “save the planet” fiber engrained in me, I picked the items up, placed them in a discarded bag I found, and carted them home to be disposed of in a more proper manner. I am civilized. I recycle.

I recognized the mismatched socks as my daughter's. Easy enough. Back home and into the wash they would go! She and our Great Pyrenees waded in the creek the day prior, so that explained that one, but I knew the shotgun shell and beer cans were not hers. That's the kind of thing camo wearing people would leave on the road. She would not wear camo. I'm pretty sure she's allergic to it, actually. She's thirteen and she does have a pink Daisy BB gun. She's not afraid to use it either! Probably not on a moving, living, breathing target, but I digress. Just because she may carry a gun occasionally to shoot ominous looking tree branches, she still would not wear camo. No, no, no! She would not don camouflage clothing even if you held a gun to her head. Mmmm, unless perhaps it was Hollister. Or the gun was Hollister and there was a matching camo bag or something.

The question remained, whose shotgun shells and beer cans were they? I suspect a Bubba. Bubbas wear camouflage clothing frequently. Furthermore, recycling isn't likely to be foremost in a Bubba's thought process. Additionally, a Bubba's preferred form of entertainment may include daily doses of shotgun shells and beer cans, tossed out of truck windows, and possibly with loud whooping and hollering robustly included. Bubbas may even transport these items around on their four-wheeler with an entourage of buddies following closely behind. The culprit might even be a local small-town policeman (off duty, of course) and appropriately named what else, but “Bubba”. Yep, I'm pretty sure that's who did it. I blame the Bubbas.