Just at that moment, Lewis’s mother came down the stairs, hollering, “Hey, Ron, chow’s gunna be up right quick, so why don’t you chase your butt upstairs on the double?  Put on an undershirt, will ya, I’m tired of seein’ ya at the dinner table in your underpants.”

“I ain’t got no clean undershirt.”

“What happened to that one you was wearin’ a couple weeks ago?”

“Aw, I done went and spilt some coffee, and I hadda wipe it up, so I used my undershirt.”

“Well, put on a bathrobe then.”

“I ain’t got no bathrobe.  You don’t give me enough allowance.”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!  That’s all I ever hear outa you.  Hell, when I was your age, I worked every day, supportin’ you and your daddy.  So why don’t you go out and find a job too?  You ain’t no kid no more.”

“I been lookin’ for a job, ma, I jus’ ain’t got one yet.”

“Well, hell, you been outa high school 30 years.  If’n you ain’t got no job yet, y’all prob’ly won’t get no job neither.”

“I might git one yet, ma, but I still don’t have no bathrobe.”

“Let me see what I can find.”

She comes back in a few minutes, saying, “All I could find was this here ol’ muu-muu.  Here put this on.  It’ll be good enough.”

“Hey, ma, I ain’t about wearin’ no muu-muu.”

“Then you ain’t about eatin’ no supper neither.”

“Ma, this is duress.  This is unconstitutional.  This is a croachment on my civil rights.  You’re fringing on my liberties.”

“Y’all wanna eat supper, don’t ya?”

“Oh, awright.  Give me the damn muu-muu.”

“Put on some shoes too.”

“I ain’t got no shoes.”

“Well, put on your daddy’s ol’ fishin’ boots.”

“What?  Them ol’ rubber hipboots? They come up to my thighs.”

“It don’t matter.  The muu-muu comes down to the ankles, so you won’t see the fishin’ boots.”

“Oh, awright.  Give me the damn fishin’ boots too.”

Five minutes later, Lewis was at the kitchen table, which was spread with oilcloth.  He was wearing his muu-muu and fishing boots, and eating a platter of chili mac, two slices of Tip-Top bread and a glass of cherry Kool-Aid.

“Ma, you can shore cook up some chili mac.”

“Ah been doin’ it for fifty years for you and your daddy.”

Just then, the smell of smoke entered the room.  Lewis, sniffing for a second or two, cried out, “Eek!  Smoke, ma!  Fire!  Fire!  Help!  Help!” 

Without further ado, Lewis ran out the front door of the house and around the lawn, still shrieking and hollering.  The neighbors all came out to see what was up, as Lewis kept shouting, “Fire!  Fire!”

Three or four minutes passed, and, finally, Lewis’s mother came out into the yard, saying, “Ronnie, it was just the toaster.  A piece of bread got stuck inside and was burnin’ up.  Y’all can go on back in, if’n you want.”

“Oh, thank goodness!  Praise the Lord!”

“Now ain’t you glad you was wearin’ that muu-muu and them fishin’ boots?  Jus’ think how embarrassed you’da been if you was standin’ out here in your jockey shorts in front of all the neighbors.”

“Ah gotta hand it to you, ma.  You shore was right this time.  That woulda been barrassin’ as hell, like you say.”

“Well, no matter.  Everything’s awright now, Ronnie.”

“Jus’ one thing, ma.”

“What’s that?”

“Let me keep that muu-muu and them fishin’ boots.  If ever there’s another fire, them is gonna be the first two things I grab on my way outa the house.”

“Now you’re talkin’ like a Lewis.  We is some awful smart folks, everybody knows that.”

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