Picture this with me for a moment. You are driving down a road on a hot, summer day, with the windows down on the car. As you head down the road with your fourth glass of iced sweet tea in your hand, you pass your 19th church and you 7th decrepit auto body shop in a mile. You pull up at a on open air tin building that has been a fruit market/vegetable stand for the last 20 years at least. As your mother collects her salad "fix-ins", you wander down the aisle and discover a nearly empty crockpot of boiled peanuts, directly under a handwritten sign that states"don't overfill your cup- you shouldn't have to force your lid on!". After ensuring that your mother has the necessary cash to purchase said peanuts (since there is another handwritten sign over the register that states "NO, NO Credit or Debit Cards) you serve up your generous portion of delicious peanuts and meet your mother in line at the one open register. She politely says "Hi Dee," to the lady behind the closed cash register across the way, who in turn beckons you over. They exchange pleasantries and then you are introduced to the nearly toothless women with cherry red hair, who apparently knows both of your parents by first name and she inquires whether your father is "takin' time to visit with ya'll while ya'll are down?" But the real kicker is when she informs your mother that "Francisco (later determine this is her husband) is all worked up, cause he had to whoop Blue's butt 'cause he didn't do his business in the litter box and now Blue's done run off!"
With much effort, I kept a straight face and collected my peanuts and mother and headed for the car. This really only could happen in my home state- the Chicken has gone South!