Tobacco humor? My Dad must have been laughing like crazy

As a matter of fact, Elvin M Baker must have known this would be an incident of classic tobacco humor, one for the ages. Really. He must have. Think about it: He makes a bet with his cocky six-year-old son, his eldest child, a kid SO overconfident at that age, the first grader BELIEVED.

That's right. I believed I could meet the terms of the wager.

It was what our family termed a straight bet, meaning nobody won anything except bragging rights. No money, no truth or consequences, nothing but bragging rights. Which, however, took on extreme importance in our eyes. Or in mine, at least.

Why did Dad offer me that particular wager? At the time, it never occurred to me to wonder. Looking back, it seems likely I watched the old man take a chew. Every so often, he'd go to the back door and spit outside into the dark. Perhaps he saw admiration in my observant gaze.

Perhaps he saw a great opportunity for tobacco humor, or a great opportunity to teach his smart-aleck boy a lesson. I'll never know. All I know is what happened after we made the bet.

(To treat yourself to the best Chinese jade, click on the sign!)

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A Chew Before Supper
Copyright 2008 by Fred Baker

Dad offered me a bet; you know I had to take it
I never did refuse a dare, and at six I could not fake it
All I had to do to win was take a little chew
Then not spit at all till suppertime; it was something I could do

You see, I knew that Mom would have supper on at six
It was something she routinely did, one of her special tricks
Since it was already five to six, I knew that I could wait
But Dad had seen what I had missed: Mom was running late

Fifteen minutes later, the food was on the table
And though I'd swallowed quite a bit, my appetite was able
For the main course we had meatballs well cooked and nicely brown
I had seconds, maybe thirds, took half a dozen down

Things became a little different about nine o'clock that night
Recycling Skoal and supper can leave your stomach muscles tight
Elvin M then calmly told me, if he ever caught me smoking
He'd MAKE me chew, and yes, I knew he was not even joking

Later when I traveled on the circuit riding bulls
Fighting fear and pain from rattled brain and muscle pulls
Other cowboys kind of wondered why I never took a chew
But to me it is a punishment, not a habit I can do!

And, Dad, this may be coming late, but I really do thank you!!

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Publisher's note: You'll note that the poem states Dad threatened me with chewing if he ever CAUGHT me smoking. He never caught me. My nickel sack of Bull Durham and I nearly set a haystack afire a time or two, but he never caught me.

My own version of tobacco humor.

Thankfully, I never did really smoke all that much, either. Tobacco humor really does have its limits.

Thanks for reading,

Fred

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