It was a sticky autumn night, late August. The cicadas rang through the air like a symphony of persistent tinnitus.
Leftover cornbread sat on the stove, still in the cast iron. Jennifer loved that pan, it had been her grandmother’s before hers and grandmother’s grandmother’s before that.
We’d given lil Dale their dropsy medication and put the kids to bed. HeeHaw was on the television, keeping us entertained, while we each settled into a stiff pull of corn liquor.
Lulu and Grandpa Jones, with his banjo, had just kicked off on “Where Oh Where Are You Tonight” when it happened…
A sound pierced the homestead.
It shattered our peace and sent us both scrambling to our feet.
A sound so terrifying, so powerful it can only be described one way: MANLY.
It was a sound of Men. It was the sound of HARD HAT.