Most every small town in America at one time or another has had a “Liar’s Bench”. It usually sat in front of the local Blacksmith Shop, Feed Store, Filling Station, General or Hardware Store.

It’s purpose was to give the “Ole Timers” a place to sit and tell tall tales about the “Good Ole Days” while they smoked a pipe, cigar, cigarette or spit “chawing tobaccy”. It usually stayed full because Grandma did not want Grandpa laying around the house smoking, chewing or boring her with his old tales she’d heard dozens of times.

The script was much the same, day to day, town to town. Ol’Rufus Roothog would tell a tale so big it would make a used car salesman blush, then someone else would call Ol’Rufus the biggest liar in three counties, then Rufus would threaten to take the objecting party around the corner and “clean his plow”. After considerable fussing and cussing, someone else would take the floor and tell his tale and so on until suppertime, at which it was agreed to dismiss for the day until the same time, same place tommorrow.

If you remember these old days and the tales there from, feel free to share them with us. Heck, it don’t have to be a lie, we’ll even accept a true story (once in a while). As long as it’s a good story with local color, it’s all good. I’ll prime the pump with this one, The Squirrel Hunt.

The Squirrel Hunt
Well boys, I finally got a chance to sneak off from Momma an’ her endless chores so’s I went squirrel huntin. I grabbed my ole Steven’s Crackshot, a brand new box o’ Remington/Peter’s Cleanbore .22 rimfire short cartridges, an’ walked down to a little grove of pee-con trees down by the south fork of Harding Creek. I took my place about 50 yards from a good lookin tree with a den hole about 30 feet up the main trunk.

Shore’nuff in about 5 minutes a big red squirrel stuck he head out of the hole and looked straight at me. I drew a bead an touched off a round, he just went back in the hole! “Blame”, says I. Surely I did not miss a shot like that!

Then the little feller stuck his head out again—-POW, I touched off another shot, to which he went back in again! “My ole eyes must be gettin bad” says I.

This happened all morning till I done used up my whole box of cartridges. Vexed, I started back home. As I walked past the ol’ den tree, I noticed a hole at the bottom and back of the tree. I went over to check it out and lo’ n behold! The tree was hollow from bottom to top, there at the base of the ol’ den tree laid 50 big ol’ red squirrels, each one with a bullet hole right betwixt their eyes!

“Rufus Roothog!” shouted Skinny Wheeler, “you are the biggest liar in three counties!” “Oh yeah”, growls Rufus, “I got half a mind to meet you around behind the barn and Clean Your……….”