There is something very engaging about tall tales. Those stories that are so far from the realm of reality that no one will be expected to believe them but told in the most honest manner. I love them.
My Uncle Bud was a master of the tall tale, and I’m sure more than one of them will find their way into my own stories, but for the moment here is one of my favorites:
Uncle Bud was driving me somewhere on the country roads near Rantoul, Kansas. It had been raining and the road was laced with potholes.
“This road is in pretty bad shape,” I said as we jolted along in Uncle Bud’s pickup.
“Oh Marvin,” he replied, “You think this is bad you should have seen it last year. I was driving along right about here when I saw what looked like a brand new Stetson hat lying in the road. I thought to myself, I’m going to get me a new hat, so I got out of the truck and went over to pick it up. What do you think, there was a fellow wearing it. ‘You sure have fallen in a hole,’ I said. ‘Can I give you a ride somewhere?’ ‘Nope,’ he said, ‘I’m riding a horse.’”
Pretty deep pothole.