So pappy he directs the posse, boys he says; take to the trail the one that winds its way across the swamp. This we do and at About ten yards in we find a boot then comes his hat the vest the pants all are hanging in the trees, the shot gun it is stuck in three feet of black mud around the twist And over a log covered in some moss, just laying there like a new born babe is Mr. Hacker pink and wrinkled in his shorts a tattoo of a dancer on his arm snoring as if he were resting in the blessed virgins arms. With a smile on his lips, lips that seemed to be painted on that taught old face. Pappy he reached down gave to him a little nudge and like the old jack in a box he pops right up, in doing so his head it strike upon a branch and back he falls, then looking up at pappy his face it grows confused for he begins now looking round a surprised look now does appear on that head with its bleeding brow; how he asks, In a mumbled cotton voice. How did I get here? Why did we bring him outside to this swamp?
David, my boy I remember walking home, getting to the door? I took my clothes off got in bed, I even locked the door, and now just what is it that you gave me? What was in that drink! Just tell ME, so I’ll have a life, when I see my wife! Pappy looks at Gene his life long good friend, and in a dry low voice with a hint of the repressed chuckle he says: I tried to tell ya, as we sat at the table just last night, that this Pete is so, so ever so darn sneaky. You did reply that this stuff is really so good. But Gene I warned you that it has a kick; for if you sip a bit of old Pate he plays a dirty trick or too he’ll sneak up and bite you. Well as you can see he did now to you.
Now come on your wife’s waiting back now at the house and the boys have found your boots and hat, even your new hunting pants. Your gun will need some cleaning but that is a low price to pay; when Pete he comes to call and messes with your head.
Sneaky Pete is a true story and happened just as you have read. Mr. Hacker never drank a bottle after that but sometimes had a sip or two. When pappy told this story it was teach us of effects of drinking and all the silly things that could happen. However he would add this simple message no one who takes a drink is responsible for one drink can make a fool; so to drink with responsibility is not to drink at all. And alcohol in any form is like old sneaky Pete you’ll not know it but he’ll get you.
Now there are some stories that I should like to tell some will show a skeleton or two. For as in many families ours is not so different there are many hidden things way back there in the closets.
Back in the eighteen seventies we had a horse thief or two, then looking further back in another branch some came in upon some of the first ships but many more were carried here in chains. They were thieves indentured for the inability to pay, others sadly were simply here as slaves. It is rumored also that some were native who stood upon the shore and yes as I have said those of the persuasions of the larcenist did trade. Our family tree is varied it is not what many would call pure but its one that I am proud of for its filled with great and sometimes as things reflect some trust unworthy men and women.