tagHumor & SatireNever Date A Girl Named Bubba

Never Date A Girl Named Bubba


“Hey Billie Jean you sweet thang. How ‘bout another Shiner over here. I’m so dry I’m spittin’ cotton.” The man at the end of the bar was dressed in dirty faded jeans with a hole in one knee and a ratty assed lookin’ red plaid lumberjack shirt with no elbows over an old insulated underwear top. He had a gimme cap pushed back on his head that said “GOAT ROPERS NEED LOVE TOO”. His dirty blonde hair was in need of a good trim and he hadn’t shaved in about three days. Billie Jean was flirtin‘ with a young cowboy at the other end of the bar and really didn‘t appreciate being interrupted. “Jim Bob, you don’t need another damn Shiner. You can barely see now.”

Jim Bob was trying his best to focus but he didn’t have much of a chance of pulling it off. When he drank his left eye got kinda lazy and crossed in a good bit and right then he was having a hard time finding Billie Jean to set her straight. He squinted in her general direction and said, “By God, I guess I know when I need another damn Shiner and when I don’t. Tryin‘ to tell me I don‘t need another Shiner. Hells bells woman, if I wanted somebody tellin‘ me what I did and didn’t need I coulda‘ gone over to Momma’s and listened to her bitch all night.” Billie Jean straightened up, crushed out her cigarette and went to stand right in front of Jim Bob so he‘d have a better chance of seeing her. “Now see Jim Bob, arguin’ with me just proves that you don’t need another beer. Hell, everybody in town knows that I’m always right so you just pay up and go home like a good little boy ‘fore I turn you over my knee and spank your little bottom.”

Nobody knew how old Billie Jean was and nobody that ever met her had the nerve to ask. Her two and a half pack a day habit and a lifetime in the sun had left her deeply lined and in possession of a voice that could make a Marine drill sergeant wet his pants. She stood 5’8” and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, which was amazing in itself. Billie Jean could eat a double chicken fried steak with French fries, a bowl of pintos, three big chunks of cornbread drippin’ butter and a bowl of peach cobbler with a couple of scoops of Bluebell Homemade Vanilla ice cream, belch once, fart twice and never gain an ounce. She could bend a bottle cap in half between her thumb and index finger and she never saw the need to hire a bouncer.

Billie Jean leaned down to make contact with at least one of Jim Bob’s eyes and said, “Did you hear me, Jim Bob? Hike your bony little butt up off of that stool and go home. You ain’t gettin’ another Shiner tonight.” Once he realized that he wasn’t going to get anything else to drink Jim Bob started fishing around in his pocket for some cash. “You know you ain’t gettin’ no tip tonight. No mam. You can’t treat me like this and ‘spect to get no damned tip!” Billie Jean snorted smoke from a Marlboro Light through her nose and said, “Jim Bob, if I had saved all the tips you gave me in the last five years I couldn’t get a decent meal at Taco Bell. Now gimme three dollars for that last beer and get your raggedy ass out of here.”

Jim Bob pulled a torn five from a grubby wad of bills and dropped it on the bar and then leaned over and smiled what he was pretty sure was his sexiest smile and asked, “So when are you and me gonna go out and have a little fun Billie Jean? You know I could show you a really good time if you‘d just gimme a chance.” He reached down and grabbed his crotch in a suggestive way and said, “Yeah baby, you just need to let me introduce you to “Russell the Love Muscle“. Then you wouldn’t be payin’ so much damned attention to those young punk cowboys you’re always hangin’ around with.”

Billie Jean snorted another cloud of smoke and said, “Jim Bob, you’re forgettin’ that you used to be engaged to my best friend. She’s done told me about that little bitty weenie of yours and we both know you drink so damn much you can’t get it up half the time any way. Now get your ass up and take “Russell the Love Muscle” outta here before I slap a big ole skillet full of crap outta you.”

Jim Bob’s driver’s license had been suspended after his second DWI so he started walking the eight blocks to his home. It would have been easier to walk down the middle of the road but there seemed to be a bunch of cars runnin’ up and down it so he ran the obstacle course these assholes around here called a sidewalk. “Sidewalk my ass”, he thought. “Hotdamn lumpy assed excuse for a sidewalk.” He fell down three times, knocked over two trash cans, ran into four trees and at least that many mailboxes and puked once. A personal best for him. Once he got home and managed to get his door opened he dug around in the fridge and found another Shiner. “Hardheaded damn woman! Tellin’ me I didn’t need another Shiner. Shit, I guess I know when I need another damn Shiner and when I don’t. Shit. And bringin‘ up that shit ‘bout me bein‘ engaged to her best friend. Shit!”

He didn’t really want to think about his ex-fiance. He never really wanted to think about his ex-fiance but sometimes when he had a load on and came home alone she just popped right into his brain. Damn but she was one sexy lady. Maybe the sexiest lady in the whole world. And they’d still be together if it hadn’t been for her fucked up family.

The first time he ever laid eyes on her he was sittin’ on his favorite stool at Billie Jean’s sippin’ a cold Shiner and hopin’ he’d get lucky. It had been weeks since he’d had any action other than a late night date with his own right hand, some Shedd’s Spread Country Crock margarine and a well worn Penthouse. Billie Jean was leanin’ half way across the bar gabbin’ with a damn fine lookin’ blonde. They were gigglin’ and squealin’ and he’d swear they were lookin’ right at him while they were doing it. Even though he was sittin’ down he still checked to make sure that his fly wasn’t open. When the blonde walked over and sat down next to him he damn near had a stroke.

Looking him right in the eye she held her hand out like she was royalty and expected to have it kissed. Jim Bob shook just the tips of her fingers and then let go real quick, all the time grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ grits. She said, “Billie Jean told me your name was Jim Bob. My real name’s Francine but everybody calls me Bubba and I just think you‘re the cutest thing ever.” Jim Bob grinned a little bigger and said, “No they don’t, no I‘m not, no you don‘t. You’re makin’ all that up ain’t cha?” “I most certainly am not,” she replied, “My daddy wanted another little boy and when he got me he decided he’d keep me but he started callin’ me Bubba and it just sorta stuck and I do think you‘re awful cute.” She emphasized her words by laying her hand on his thigh which made most of the blood rush right out of his head.

By the time Bubba had finished her explanation Jim Bob had quit listening and was trying to look further down the front of her blouse at her more than ample tits. If there was one thing he liked it was tits and by golly she had some. Two of ‘em. What he liked to refer to as “A Bodacious Pair of Tattas”. Now, if there were two things he liked they were big tits and big hair and this gal named Bubba had both. In God’s great state of Texas the beehive has always been at the forefront of hair design in certain circles and Bubba was smack dab in the center of that circle. You just had to know this gal would be a big hit at the bowlin’ alley. Big hair and big tits and Jim Bob was smooth ass in love with both within four minutes.

Jim Bob and Bubba started dating real regular. They started havin’ sex on the second date. They would’ve started on the first date but their first date was lunch the next day and they both agreed that waitin’ a little bit would make it more special. Their next date was that same night and they agreed that waiting seven hours really did make the sex more special. And it remained special over the next few weeks.

They screwed in every room in Jim Bob’s doublewide. They did it on the coffee table, the kitchen table, in the shower and even on the washin‘ machine while it was on the spin cycle. They did it in the hot tub, in the grass, on the picnic table and on the tailgate of Jim Bob’s 1969 Chevy pick up truck. They just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Everybody in town knew what was goin’ on so it didn’t surprise anyone when they announced that they were gettin’ hitched. Most people, including Jim Bob didn’t think he would ever get married. And even if he did they damn sure didn’t believe he’d ever marry someone with big hair and big tits like Bubba had. Everybody was happy for them. But then the old fly fell right into the proverbial ointment. Bubba invited Jim Bob home to meet her family.

Bubba’s folks lived way the hell out in the middle of nowhere about four hours due west of home. The trip would have been really boring if Bubba hadn’t had her head in Jim Bob’s lap for about three hours of it. It had been rumored that Bubba could suck start a Harley but Jim Bob had never actually seen her do it. But if you ever had the bad manners to ask him he’d damn sure tell ya that she sucked a mean dick. About a half-hour before they crossed the cattle guard at her folk’s place she finally let him cum. And damn did he cum. This wasn’t no subtle, quiet little Presbyterian cum. No sir. He let out a rebel yell, ran off into the bar ditch, took out about seventy five yards of barbed wire fence scarin’ the shit out of six scrawny assed cows and a half-blind sheep dog with an identity crisis and when the truck finally stopped he started speaking in tongues. Yep, one hell of world class, nut crunchin’, heart stoppin’ cum. He was still thinkin’ about that cum when they arrived.

Now, Jim Bob had been around the block a time or two but nothing in his whole life had prepared him for the scene that met him when they pulled up in front of Bubba‘s folk‘s house. “Bubba,” he asked, “who’s that over by the fence? And what‘s he doing?” She smiled and answered, “That’s my Daddy and he‘s just drinkin’ some whiskey and shootin‘ at some old coffee cans ” Jim Bob puzzled on it a minute more and then asked, “Bubba, why’s he naked?” She looked at him like it was a silly assed question and said, “Daddy don’t never wear clothes. Says they chafe him somethin’ terrible. Says if God had meant for us to wear clothes we’d all been born with a Wal Mart credit card stuck up our ass. ”

Before that really had a chance to sink in they got out of the truck and Jim Bob saw a three legged dog leanin’ up against the back tire of an old John Deer tractor. He was humpin’ on a two foot long piece of firewood like it was the best lookin’ bitch in the dog show. He was slobberin’ and pantin’ and it looked like he’d been at it for quite a while. As they walked past him on the way to the front porch Bubba leaned over and patted him on the head. He threw a brief look in her general direction and then returned his full attention to his little wooden sweetheart.

There was a nice lookin’ lady of about fifty five years on the front porch sittin’ in a rockin’ chair and just rockin’ her ass off. She was singin’ “Rock of Ages” at the very top of her lungs. “Momma,” Bubba said, “I want you to meet my brand new fiance, Jim Bob.” Jim Bob stuck out his hand to shake and then noticed that her right hand was under her dress and was movin’ in and out at an alarming rate. All of a sudden it looked like she was havin’ of some sort of a seizure. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she started clackin’ her teeth together and she started shakin’ and makin’ funny noises. “Humma, humma, whoof, whoof. Owooo oooh oooh yes, sweet Jesus come and get me. I’m cummin’ home Lord!” Jim Bob just barely managed to stammer out, “Jesus Christ Bubba, was she just, did she just? Aw man, that just ain’t right. No mam, that just ain‘t right at all!”

“Now Jim Bob,” Bubba snapped, “you just hush. Momma just likes to feel good is all. You like to feel good so why shouldn’t she?” Jim Bob was amazed that Bubba could defend this kind of behavior. Sure, he like to feel good but damn, he hadn’t ever sat on the by God front porch in a rocker with company comin’ up the by God steps and choked his by God chicken. No sir, he just didn’t think that was right at all.

When they stepped into the house Jim Bob actually gave some serious thought to turning right around and gettin’ the hell outta there just as fast as he could. He was startin’ to think that bein’ single just might be the best way to go. The old man that Bubba introduced as her grandfather was sitting in a beat up Lazy Boy recliner dressed in a tattered, yellowed wedding dress. He had a bra on outside of the dress and was wavin’ a Schaffer Light can around like it was a royal scepter. His long gray hair was rolled up in curlers and he was wearing enough makeup to make Tammy Faye Baker turn green with envy. He was watchin’ a porno flick that was playin’ on the VCR and was yellin’, “That’s it baby! Hump that fucker and hump it good.” Jim Bob had learned his lesson about making any rude comments so he just shook the old man’s hand and acted like he saw such things every day of his life.

When they stepped into the kitchen he thought maybe he’d finally found sanity in the house. There was an old lady working over an old cook stove and the smell of friyin’ chicken was just wonderful. There was a teenage girl sittin’ at a chrome and red Formica table playin’ with a kitten. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting until he turned around and saw her brother.

Here was this big ole 285 lb. water headed lookin’ boy sittin’ on one of the kitchen chairs with a Dallas Cowboy football helmet on. He had both hands wrapped around what appeared to be about a twelve inch dick and was twisting the shit out of it and makin’ motorcycle sounds. “Varooom, varooom, rum, bum, bum, bum. Hi Bubba. Hi Bubba‘s friend. Close the door behind me when I’m gone, would ’ya? Varooom, varooom.” Bubba smiled and patted him on his helmet and said, “Sure, Cotton. You have a good ride and be careful. Don’t spin the tires and if you get a ticket you gotta pay for it yourself.” She turned to Jim Bob and whispered in his ear, “Don’t pay no mind to Cotton. He ain’t exactly right in the head ever since the accident.” Jim Bob wanted to ask. He really did. But he just didn’t have the balls.

Bubba took Jim Bob’s arm and turned him around and said, “Jim Bob, this is my baby sister Shirley. Shirley, this is Jim Bob.” Jim Bob was about half scared to speak or shake hands even though Shirley looked to be the most normal person in the house. Shirley smiled and said, “Hi deh, Im Bob. I gad u meet u.” Jim Bob whispered into Bubba’s ear, “Why’s she talkin’ like that?” Bubba laughed and said, “Aw, last summer she got bored and pierced her own tongue with Grandma’s knittin’ needle. Then she stuck a key ring in it and it just ain’t right yet.”

“Hey Im Bob, anna pay id my pussy?” Shirley asked. “Jesus H. Christ, Bubba. What the hell did she just say? Did she say what I think she said? Jesus H. Christ.” Jim Bob yelled, “No, I don’t wanna play with your pussy. Jesus H. Christ is this whole fuckin‘ family crazy?” Bubba said, “Calm down Jim Bob, she just wanted to know if you’d like to play with her little pussy. What’s his name again Shirley” “Irley,” Shirley said. “No, Shirley’s your name. ”Bubba said. “What‘s your kitty‘s name?” “I oh at. At’s is ame oo.” said Shirley. “Well, there ya go Jim Bob,” said Bubba. “It’s just as plain as can be. Now, let me introduce you to Grandma. Grandma, this here’s Jim Bob. Me and him are gittin’ hitched next month. Jim Bob, this is Grandma.”

“I’m real pleased to meet you, mam.” said Jim Bob. “That chicken sure does smell good.” Bubba’s grandmother wiped her hands on her apron, stuck out her hand and said, “I’m awful pleased to meet you Jim Bob.” Jim Bob reached out to take her hand and nearly lost it completely when she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand right directly on her old saggy tit. When he tried to pull back she pulled his hand down to her crotch and started humpin’ it. “Damn, Jim Bob,” she said, “You’re the best lookin’ fella Bubba’s ever brought us home. I’m thinkin’ you and me and Granddad are gonna have a great time after supper.”

Jim Bob used all of the strength he had left to get free from this old lady. She had a grip that’d make a professional wrestler happy. But he did get free and once free he ran just as fast as he could. Out of the kitchen, right past Grandpa and right through the screened door out onto the porch. Momma was still rockin’ and singin’ and playin’ with herself and the three legged dog, “Pecker” was still humpin’ his favorite chunk of fire wood only now he was leanin‘ up against Jim Bob‘s pickup.

Jim Bob hit the ground runnin’ and jumped right into his 1969 Chevrolet pickup truck and fired that baby up. He didn’t pay any attention to the three legged dog or the twelve or so chickens peckin’ around in front of him. He didn’t pay any attention to Bubba’s naked assed old Daddy sill shootin’ at coffee cans and drinkin’ whiskey straight from the bottle. He just slammed that bad boy into gear and scattered gravel and firewood and chicken feathers all to Hell and back and burnt rubber for about a half a mile before he felt even a little bit safe.

No, Jim Bob didn’t like to think about his ex-fiance. But on nights like this one she just popped into his head. And God knows he really misses her and he’d love to get he into the sack again. Damn that was one sexy lady. But if you asked him when he was sober he’d tell you, “Pardner, you just listen to ole Jim Bob now. It don’t matter how big her hair is . It don’t even matter how big her tits are. If you know what’s good for you don’t you never, ever, ever date a girl named Bubba.”

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