Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Catfish Jones

Thinking about my dad's old pal, Catfish, got my mind rolling on some good Catfish stories. He was quite the character and, once his antics got totally out of control, was forbidden by my mother from coming over to our house. Luckily this didn't happen until I was in high school so I can still remember the mystic that is Catfish Jones.

First of all, I'm pretty sure his real name isn't Catfish but his brother's real name is Charlie Daniels. I also know they are from a small town in Mississippi and that if Bo and Luke Duke ever ran across themselves in Bizarro World, they would be staring straight into the eyes of Catfish and Charlie Daniels Jones. The Jones' are those kinds of boys that, had they not been friends of my father's, would have scared me as a kid. And rightfully so. They're the kind of guys that now, at 35, I would either LOVE to hang around with or I would loathe. Sometimes with this brand of good-ole-boy comedy comes stupidity and prejudice. But also, usually some pretty damn good stories.

For some reason, I feel like I may have written about this before. Oh well. If so, it's worth repeating.

One time Catfish and my dad had been out playing golf at some work/play day. They roll into the driveway and Catfish is HAMMERED. He called his girlfriend to come and pick him up. We lived on a fairly busy street, with plenty of houses on it. One of those long, straight streets, so there really weren't many landmarks before you got to our place. Catfish's woman was trying to get directions and his slurred speech in combination with his total lack of sense was making it difficult. He told her not to worry about it, just to get on Rainey and drive. She'd know it when she saw it. He then took his clubs out of his golf bag and made a giant arrow pointing to our house. It is some funny shit to watch your dad's friend running out into the street, stopping traffic, collecting his golf clubs, waving traffic by, carfully laying the clubs back on the asphalt and then repeating the process. Over and over and over again.

If I blog tomorrow, and if nothing else seems more pressing, I'll tell you about Catfish and his leg infection. It's my favorite of all the Catfish Jones stories.


Killer said...

You can tell us the truth Liz...Are you "Catfish Jones"?

hellohahanarf said...

eagerly awaiting your favorite catfish jones story. if i need to check archives, lemme know. otherwise, bring it!

oh, and i simply adored that golf club arrow tale. that is worse than my drunk friend who realized he shouldn't drive only after he started the journey home. he pulled over to pick up a hitchhiker with the thought process that the hitchhiker could drive him home and then he would pay for a cab to take the guy anywhere he wanted to go. guy never moves, just stands there with his thumb out. after a few minutes my friend is pissed and hollers to him about it not being a far walk to his car and no one else will pull up closer. a few more minutes and he actually puts the car into reverse so that the sober hitchhiker will get in the damn car. except it wasn't a hitchhiker in need of a ride. it was a mailbox with the flag up. friend hollers, "just fukken stay there then!" (of course after hearing this story you know we stole the mailbox and put it in his front yard, right?)

Liz said...


THAT story is GREAT.