Mama

Okay, lest’s go through this again, Mr. Hingle. What was your life like growing up?

“When I was young, we lived in a little house just outside of Cinci. Just me and Ma, with our little chickens and our one big cow. We were strong believers in The Lord Jesus Christ, and so that must be why she chose to home school me all though my years. Never set foot in a Public school building, now that I think about it. Wouldn’ta had it any other way though, Mama was a good teacher. She coulda done it for a livin, but she always said that public schools were no good. That they taught from the devils book, and that I had nothin to worry about because Mama would tech me right. And she sure did.”

“So, Mama would take some time out of her busy schedule each week to give me my lesson. She taught me to read usin the bible, of course. She tried to teach me to write by copyin sentences from the bible, but we gave up on that. My hands don’t seemta be made to hold pens. I just downright couldn’t do it. My hands were to sweaty and the words just ended up lookin like nonsense. Then i’d get all worked up and i’d cry, and Mama would hit me for all the whinin.”

“We finally decided that there ain’t no need for writin, specially since my hands were good for other things. Things like choppin wood and slaughterin pigs. I guess my hands were meant for holdin axes! Anyway Mama took advantage of my big hands and put me to work.”

“Mama always told e I was a special boy. I remember the day, Mother’s Day, when I decided to make her a real good dinner. It was around 2:00 just the time when Mama always went to be alone with jesus in the prayer room, so I went out to the barn.”

“Here chicky chicky chickies……Here chickies!” I said when I got inside. There were about 6 chickens in all, and they were makin so mush noise. I t hurt my head.”

I walked over to the little fellas, and WHAM! I swung my axe with all I had and said, “This is for you, Mama!” I don’t know why I said that, I just did. It felt great, you know? Knowin that your Mama’s gonna be proud of you. But them I looked down at the little chicken, and it sure wasn’t a chicken no more. I must’ve gotten carried away and swung too hard cause all that was left of the poor thing was a sack of blood. And I got it all over my good Sunday shirt.”

“So then I knew I had to do it again, I couldn’t jus give up. For Mama I reminded myself, and I swung my big ol’ axe another time, and sliced another little chicky.”

How did you feel when you killed those chickens?

“Oh I don’t know. I guess I felt proud. I felt like I was doin a good thing for Mama, and if it was good for Mama, it’s good for The Lord Jesus Christ. Funny thing is, I actually ended up killin all our chickens that day. I just couldn’t seemta get a nice, clean cut. I wasn’t gonna cook up a chicken for Mama unless it was good n’ clean! So that wasn’t a good Mother’s Day. Mama was angry with me for killin the chickens, so I spent the rest of the day cleanin the mess in the barn. There sure was a lotta blood! I never saw so much in my life. But I knew it was okay because it was for Ma.”

And when you got older? What was life like?

“Oh well, it was bout the same. Just me and mama and our little house. Cept then, Mama was too old n’ frail to get around too much. I did most of the work around the house, and I finally got the hang of slaughterin chickens. More than chickens, I slaughtered our big ol’ pigs and our big ol’ cow too. Can ya believe that? Mama did say I was one special boy.”

And what happened on this last Christmas day?

“Well it was just like all the others. Christmas is Ma’s favorite holiday, it is Jesus’s birthday an’ all. We got each other a gift. She gave me a sweater that she knit m and I got her a nice dinner. Well, it was nice enough. That winter, it seems like we ran outta good meat to slaughter. So earlier that day I went out and found me a nice big, fat cat in the woods near our little house. I walked all quite towards the little thing and I held out my hand. The rascal hissed at me and tried to run. But I said, “Not so fast, Mama needs a Christmas dinner!” and I swung my axe and I got it by the tail. Boy, did that thing holler.”

“Then outta nowhere, I heard a kids voice say. “Thats my cat!”

“I looked over and i seen a little girl. I said to her. “No, this cat is for my Mama.”

“She looked at me and then she seemed to see my big ol’ axe, which was still holdin the kitty by the tail. So her face turns all red… red like blood, and she starts screamin and screamin. It hurt my ears, all that screamin! Her Mama must not’ve taught her not to be so noisy, her Mama must’ve sent her to a public school to be taught the devils book. All that screamin hurt my head and I didn’y like it one bit. So I took my axe from the cat and I just swung with all my might, just like that Mother’s Day when I killed those chickens. Blood splattered, but I was jus happy  that the screamin stopped.”

“I looked down at the ground. I’d let the big fat cat get away! Mama’s Christmas dinner! But, I did slaughter somethin out there in the woods, and I did it for Mama, so Mama would have it for dinner. And that’s what we did for Christmas.”

One last question. How did your mother die?

“Mama didn’t like it when I told her where the meat came from.”

Mr. Hingle, your mother was found in her home in a pool of blood. Did you kill her? 

“I told her the story after we ate. I thought she’d find it as funny as I did. she just screamed.”

Did you kill her?

“She wouldn’t quit screamin. It hurt my head.”

Answer the question.

“Mama was a strong believer in The Lord Jesus Christ.”

Mr. Hingle 

“That’s why I was home schooled…”

Focus.

“Never set foot in a public school now that I think of it….”

Come on.

“She always said I was her special boy….”

Thank you for your time, Mr. Hingle. We’ll try again tomorrow.