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Learning How

Learning How FICTION Richard Hague Ever since coming back from having his gall bladder out up at the State Hospital, Jim Williams was full of stories about the characters he met in that place. The one about General Eben "Lookout" Meigs, who swallowed bullets, started there, and I've heard it told as far away as Antioch and Weegee. Once, in the Birch Hat Bar up in Forrest, the county seat, I watched a fella named Earl Springtrap show a slug up and down the bar that he swore had come from the General's bedpan, give to him, he said, by a red-headed nurse he loved up once in a closet. I don't know. I hate to see common liars like Earl Springtrap make hay off Jim's stories without even giving him credit, but that's the way it is with stories, I guess. Once they get told, it ain't any easier to keep them to yourself than it is a case of the mumps. Jim was full of tales--had more than a porcupine has quills. You couldn't walk past him without getting stuck by one, and they was stories hard to ignore. Once, on the porch at Mr. Piatt's store, he http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Learning How

Hague, Richard
Appalachian Review , Volume 24 (1) – Jan 8, 1996
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
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Abstract

FICTION Richard Hague Ever since coming back from having his gall bladder out up at the State Hospital, Jim Williams was full of stories about the characters he met in that place. The one about General Eben "Lookout" Meigs, who swallowed bullets, started there, and I've heard it told as far away as Antioch and Weegee. Once, in the Birch Hat Bar up in Forrest, the county seat, I watched a fella named Earl Springtrap show a slug up and down the bar that he swore had come from the General's bedpan, give to him, he said, by a red-headed nurse he loved up once in a closet. I don't know. I hate to see common liars like Earl Springtrap make hay off Jim's stories without even giving him credit, but that's the way it is with stories, I guess. Once they get told, it ain't any easier to keep them to yourself than it is a case of the mumps. Jim was full of tales--had more than a porcupine has quills. You couldn't walk past him without getting stuck by one, and they was stories hard to ignore. Once, on the porch at Mr. Piatt's store, he

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 1996

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