Ah’s so mad at Mamma right now, ah could spit! Yesterdy when ah droppt of tha kids so’s ah could go on ma date wit Carl Wayne an his girlfriend, Mamma was asleepin’ so’s ah tolt tha kids to shush theyselves an not ta drink her whiskey ‘gain ’cause they’s teachers got mad tha last time ah took ‘em ta Wendsdy night Sundy school drunk, even when ah tolt ‘em it were a assident. Jes’ as ah sees Becky Rea at tha Waffle House like we was plannin’ so’s we could grab some grub ‘fore bowlin’, here comes Mamma running up tha road in she’s nightgown a cussin’ up a storm. “Goddammit Flo Joe,” she yelt, “Getcher whorin’ ass here, right now! Ah tolt yoouu, ah’s gotta date a mah own t’night wit Reverend Dean an ah cain’t watch yer sorry brats t’day!” Well, ah don’ gotta go on an on like a billy goat stuck in a cattle guard ta tell yoouu, ah coulda kilt her, specially ’cause Becky Rea saw tha whole thang and she already thinks she’s all high ‘n mighty ’cause a tha fact that she gets ta live wit’ Carl Wayne.
Ah tolt Mamma ah don’ need her sorry ass anyway and ta send tha kids along then. When they ran up, they was sayin’, “Mamamamama, can we go o’ver to cousin Gene’s? Meemaw says they gots a pig an ay wanna ride it sooo bad! Mamamamama, please!” “Now Carl Wayne, Jr. yoouu knows Carl Wayne cain’t take yoouu in his El Camino all tha ways o’ver there jes’ so’s you can see a pig!” Ah tolt him, but he wouldn’t see no sense. Then Ray Jean started in , “Please, please, please, Mammma Joe?” “Cut it out!” they made me yell. Ah done had enough. “Now sit yer asses down in the booth so’s you can get you can get yer waffle.”
After Jina Paige brought us we’s Dr. Peppers, ah tried to figger out what we’s gonna do. By this time, Becky Rae’s boyfriend was sittin’ wit us. Carl Wayne was gonna be there any minute an’ we knew iffin’ we didn’t figure this shit out, an quick, then they’s gonna be hell ta pay when Carl Wayne showt up. When it were time ta pay, ah pullt ma money from ma pocket and wondert why we’s total was $9.34 instead of $12.27, the usual, and realized ah didn’t know where Avery Ron were. Ah yelt, “Has anyone seen ma baby?” Jes’ then, ah saw Carl Wayne’s orange El Camino pull inta tha parkin’ lot and all’s ah could do was run.
While ah wuz runnin’, ah figgert only Jesus could help me out of this mess an ah jumpt behind a bush an’ waited ‘til Carl Wayne was passt ‘fore ah started ta pray. “Dear Jesus, Ah’s in a bind an’ ah need yoouu ta send me an angel.” Jesus whispert in ma ear, “Yer mamma would help ya right now, but she thinks yer a whore fer sleepin’ with Reverend Dean, so ah’s sorry, Florence Joe, you’s gonna hafta figger it out fer youself.” “Shit, Jesus. Go fuck yerself,” ah yellt. When ah saw tha coast was clear, ah ran o’er ta tha Circle K an’ callt ma Sugerdaddy Fred Rick an he came an pict me up in his pickup. Later, when we was fuckin’ ah jes’ had ta yell, “Ah is not a whore, Mamma!”
That was supposed to be funny, eh? Missed by a long shot.
Sorry to hear you say that, Buelah…. I find it hysterical AND heartbreaking….
I live in the deep south and don’t know a single person who speaks this way. It is far too broad-brushed and offensive to most whom I would try to reach out to, instead of alienate.
I can see how someone not from here might think it funny and sad.
So, if the goal is to alienate southerners… way to go.
Well, I can tell you that I did not write this piece. “Floe Joe” is a pseudonym for a writer who also lives in the south. And it is not a piece of journalism, so I don’t think the author was going for “authenticity”.
I accept that you don’t find it funny. Fair enough. But to say that its lack of authenticity is what makes it unfunny is also a pretty broad stroke, no?
That would mean Spinal Tap, The Simpson’s & Charlie Chaplin are not funny- as they are to broad.
Exaggeration is a central component of comedy, or satire- of most davis fleetwood videos.
I’m not trying to alienate anybody. With “acronym” I am just posting stuff that I am drawn to. I think the diaries of Flo Joe (there are more of them) happen to be- as I said- hysterical and heartbreaking.
To each his own.
-DT
Thanks for sayin’, DT.
Neither Flo Joe nor her author are trying to be anything to anyone. Beulahman, I invite you leave the whole hot mess be, but let me assure you I draw upon the material from an exaggerated point of view of people I know, many by blood. Your family or absurd community of origin is not the one I wish to mock, but my own, because dammit to hell if there isn’t a part of it inseparable from myself.