Old Blue was Great Grandma’s nephew. His actual name was Bluford Howard. Truly… his name was Bluford. What’s more, everyone in the town knew him as Old Blue.

Old Blue was 6’5″ and was a major man; so huge that his eight kids could fit inside his denim blue overalls simultaneously. He had a little wisp of a spouse named Willie who was as little as Blue was huge. How Willie had the option to have eight of his kids I’ll never know.

Presently Old Blue is the thing that you would call a freeloader. He and his family had a place with the Church of the First Born, yet Blue didn’t go to chapel for the reasons that a great many people do. Most in the town took a gander at the congregation like sort of an auto mechanics search for the spirit. The spot for an otherworldly oil change, or if the first Friday or Saturday night had gotten somewhat insane, the spot to get a significant check up. Church was a spot to right the wrongs and, well, to like one’s self once more.

Not all that Old Blue.

No, Old Blue went to chapel for the free food and garments. While church for most of us was the auto look for the spirit and everything authentic, for Blue it was his food merchant and haberdashery. Blue never worked a day in his life.

Blue ventured out from house to place of the individuals from the assembly and would simply end up appearing at dinnertime with his better half, the eight kids, and even his canine. Blue’s posterity were each named for some sort of blossom or plant. That was all Willie’s doing.

There were five young ladies: Daisy, Dahlia, Violet, Fern, and Magnolia. Daisy and Dahlia were the twins, continually expressing very similar things simultaneously, as twins will in general do, and continually pursuing the Gonzales young men. At the point when Daisy and Dahlia would get the young men, the young ladies would give every one Indian Burns and make them kiss them. Each Gonzales would by one way or another deal with a departure, and the young ladies would holler after Blue, “Daddy! Would you be able to get them young men keep’em still for us?” Blue would consistently holler back, “Catch your own personal damn men.”

Old Blue and Willie additionally had three¬†panda news young men and Blue was the one answerable for naming them Colt, Moe, and Weed. Everybody and I do mean everybody avoided those spoiled young men. They were answerable for plunging young ladies’ ponytails in the inkwells (truly, mean children really did this at one at once, and for slipping the spoiled cheddar in the priest’s work area. Unpleasant little cusses, they were.

Colt was consistently the instigator and made life hopeless for anybody around. The main time Colt was half fair was within the sight of Daisy and Dahlia. They ensured Colt realized who was chief and it wasn’t him. Every one of the three of those young men had runny noses that they just cleaned with their sleeves, and each wore a messy mop of grimy earthy colored hair. All aside from Moe, who was the threesome’s most brilliant bulb. Moe had tangled red hair that stuck straight up, never sure on the off chance that it was genetic, or simply loaded with the previous milk. He had one apathetic eye which made him look like he was taking a gander at you out of the side of his head. Furthermore, he realized how to pick locks.

One day the pastor bolted the keys inside his vehicle and inquired as to whether he could open it. Moe had the entryway open in three seconds level, and he did it with a composing plume. Pastor didn’t know whether to be pleased with Moe or set up a jail service for him sometime on the grounds that, all things considered, he did simply pick a lock.

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