{"id":14306,"date":"2014-06-23T17:59:05","date_gmt":"2014-06-23T22:59:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/?p=14306"},"modified":"2014-06-24T17:30:59","modified_gmt":"2014-06-24T22:30:59","slug":"a-visit-to-the-juke-joint","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/a-visit-to-the-juke-joint\/","title":{"rendered":"A Visit to the Juke Joint"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"JesseYancyColumnHeader\"<\/a><\/span>\u201cJack,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019ve been reading this article about juke joints . . . “<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t read things like that,\u201d he said, turning his head from a football game to growl at me. \u201cIt always gets me in trouble.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jack is my first cousin, a really great guy and the only friend I have in the family. We\u2019ve seen one another through thick and thin. I helped him back up on his feet out of a really bad marriage, and he rescued me from a crack house in Atlanta. We take care of each other, Jack and I do, but lately he\u2019s been feeling like he\u2019s doing all the work, which isn\u2019t fair of him at all. For one thing, I\u2019m always the designated driver, and if it weren\u2019t for me, his jeans would look like denim accordions.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that place you always go to? \u2018Hippy Dick\u2019s\u2019?<\/span><\/p>\n

I could hear Jack groan all the way in the kitchen. \u201cNo!\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou said it had a juke box?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t have any ABBA on it!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPool tables?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t play mahjong on a pool table!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPickled eggs, pigs\u2019 feet and jerky?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo! Sushi!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJack,\u201d I said, \u201cBe fair.<\/span>”<\/p>\n

I heard a long sigh. \u201cWhat are you wearing?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI thought khakis and a button-up Oxford, hushpuppies . . .\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jack held his hand up. \u201cIf you go in there looking like a reject from rush week at Ole Miss, you\u2019re going to end up in the Yalobusha River with a trot line tied around your feet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

So I left the house wearing jeans, flannel, a pair of Jack\u2019s old boots and a cap that said \u201cEmbry\u2019s Bait Shop\u201d with a Marine insignia. At least he let me pick out which of his flannel shirts to wear.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLucky for you pink don\u2019t look good on me,\u201d he said. Jack\u2019s got a sharp sense of humor.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hippy Dick\u2019s was on the side of a long winding road that twisted through the backwaters of a nearby reservoir. It had big a gravel parking lot that Jack said the county kept up because Dick was the supervisor\u2019s second cousin. It had a neon sign on top that said DICKS and a bait shop on the side. The bar had two television screens, a large one near the back wall, which seemed continually tuned to ESPN, the other, smaller one, set up near one end of the bar tuned to \u201cE!\u201d with a bucket of iced beer on a towel in front of it. The jukebox was blaring out Faith Hill. It was crowded, about forty people. You had the sports guys crowded around a big screen television, about a dozen guys playing pool and a little more than that bellied up to the bar.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jack ordered our drinks: a Miller Lite for him, an O\u2019Doul\u2019s for me. \u201cHe\u2019s driving,\u201d Jack explained to the bartender, a handsome redhead with a spade beard.<\/span>
\n\u201cIs this your date?\u201d he asked Jack with a wink.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRick, this is my cousin Andy,\u201d Jack said. Rick reached a muscular arm over the bar, smiled and shook my hand. I couldn\u2019t help but giggle. Jack kicked me in the knee and dragged me over to a table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re going to get my ass kicked if you don\u2019t straighten up. Why don\u2019t you sit here and try not to fluff your hair while I play a game of pool?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"JesseJukeJoint\"<\/a>\u201cNow I\u2019m going to have to go to the men\u2019s room to look at my hair.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMake sure that\u2019s all you look at,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Having checked in the rear view mirror before I got out of the car, I knew my hair looked fine, so I wandered over to the jukebox. Sure enough, there wasn\u2019t any ABBA, but a couple of tunes did stand out: \u201cYMCA\u201d, \u201cDon\u2019t You Want Me, Baby?\u201d and two tunes by Madonna. I saw Jack looking at me from the corner of my eye, played it safe and picked out Reba. I was just straightening up when this woman at the bar said,\u00a0 \u201cYeah, he gave me a little rock and a little cock!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Naturally, I froze, but nobody else seemed to notice. I turned to look at her. She was in her mid-30s, brunette, big tits, freckled cleavage. I turned to Jack, who shrugged and sank the three ball in a side pocket.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey, you at the jukebox!\u201d she said. \u201cCome here!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jack miscued and stood up, glaring at me. I just shrugged at him, turned to the lady at the bar, smiled and walked up to her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you Jack\u2019s cousin?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I am,\u201d I said. \u201cHis momma is my daddy\u2019s big sister.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, y\u2019all sure do look alike,\u201d she said. \u201cJust handsome as you can be.\u201d She laid her hand on my arm. \u201cI just want you to know that song you played is my favorite one in the world.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Little Rock\u2019\u201d?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, honey. And do you know why?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, why?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBecause my husband had a little cock, and he gave me a little rock.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat would piss anybody off,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I heard someone behind me choke on a beer, but I paid no attention, went to the other end of the bar and asked for a refill. Rick obliged with a stunning smile, but before I could thank him, a guy on a stool next to me poked me in the ribs.<\/span><\/p>\n

I turned and found myself facing a thin, scruffy blond wearing a Saints jersey. \u201cI like them jeans you got on,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat size you wear?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUh, on a good day, a 32,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI used to be fat, too,\u201d he said, and before I could protest, he said, \u201cBut I got on that Atkins diet. You know, the one that Ozzie\u2019s wife is always doin\u2019 ads for.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not fat!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I didn\u2019t think I was either, but you got this here,\u201d and he patted my stomach and started rubbing on it. \u201cNice little beer belly \u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He let his hand linger a little too long, and I got to feeling a little uncomfortable. \u201cYeah, well, that\u2019s mostly pizza,\u201d I said, backing away.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey, I like pizza, too, but I really like them bratwursts,\u201d he said, with what can only be interpreted as a leer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAndy!\u201d Jack\u2019s voice rang across the bar. \u201cYou\u2019re up!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I certainly was. \u201cBe right there!\u201d I said over my shoulder. \u201cI\u2019ve got to go,\u201d I said to the thin guy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe you can come over for a brat sometime,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jack soon decided it was time to go. He\u2019d lost forty bucks at pool and the lady who liked \u201cLittle Rock\u201d had her hand on his arm. I was ready to go myself. As we were driving off, Jack asked me if I had a good time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI sure did,\u201d I said. \u201cRick gave me his phone number.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cJack,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019ve been reading this article about juke joints . . . “ \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t read<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":242,"featured_media":14419,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[96],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14306","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-creative-writing"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/06\/JukeJointReally.jpg?fit=620%2C349&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14306","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/242"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14306"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14306\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/14419"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14306"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14306"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14306"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}