Duck Hunting with Hillary
by Bubba Hayston

            Me and Verna was out duck huntin’ the other day, when we heard a rustle in the bushes.  I raised up to see who’d be out trompin’ around in the marshes at 5 o’clock in the morning.  Was I ever surprised!  There before my very eyes was Hillary Clinton!

 I chunked Verna in the ribs and said, “Look over yonder.  There's Hillary Clinton with her duck huntin’ dog . . . and she’s packin’ her Uzzi automatic.

            Verna says, “No way.  Cain’t be her, cause she’s up in Pennsylvania huntin’ votes and usin’ Obama for target practice.”

            So I call out to Hillary, kinda presumptuous like. 

“Hey, there, Ms. President lady, it’s me Bubba Hayston from Incredible, Missouri.  Remember, me?”

            At first, she didn't let on like she knew who I was.  But, I don't hold that agin her none, it being dark in the woods that early in the morning.

             I yelled back, “We shook hands at the gun show in Litrtle Rock back in 1990.”

            Well, right away she began grinning like a Cheshire cat and walkin’ my way.

            “Bubba,” she said, “you, old son-of-a-gun.  Why, I was thinkin’ about you just the other day when I was duckin’ and dodging them bullets out on the campaign trail.  How the hell you been?”

            I poked Verna and said, “Move over and let the duck hunting woman join us a spell.  Well, she cozied down into the duck blind with me and Verna and began talkin’ all friendly like.

            “Have a shot?” she said.  At first I thought she was talkin’ about the ducks. But, then she took a flask out of her hunting vest and began swigging some powerful joy juice. 

           Being the lady that she is, she naturally passed it around to me and Verna.  She said it would cure our “bitterness” and protect us from “elitism.”

            I was pretty "bitter" that mornin’ cause I ain’t seen no ducks and my feet was soakin' wet.  And, Verna was being kinda “elite” actin’, complain’ about the conditions in the duck blind and wantin' to get back home to the trailer.

            After a few drinks all my "bitterness" began to wear off.  Next thing you know, we was laughin’ and jokin’ and ducks was flying all over the place.  Dammed if we didn't solve our “bitterness” predicament right there in the duck blind.

            Long about daybreak, Hillary shouldered her Uzzie and whistled up her duck dog, who had tracked down several good-sized birds.  Turned out they was old crows, but Hill put them in her Gucchi duck bag, staggered out of the blind, and headed toward her Hummer. 

            I saw her last night on television and she was tellin’ a little story about duck huntin’ with me in Arkansas and bagging 27 ducks!

            I told Verna, “How’d she get confused like that?  She was in  Missouri, not Arkansas, and we didn’t get one measly duck.

            “No matter,” Verna said.  “I’m thinkin’, that pretty soon she’s gonna have a lot more time to spend working on her duck huntin’."