Bubba's Corner BBQ

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The Writer's Cramp  (13+) Write the best poem or story in 24 hours or less and win 10K GPS! #333655 by Sophurky

for 4/12. Prompt:


#1. Give a tourist directions to "Bubba's Corner BBQ".

#2 There are stipulations:
You cannot use the following words: north, south, east, west, left, right, straight
Tell us why "Bubba's Corner BBQ" isn't on a corner

#3 One of your genres must be COMEDY

Word Count: 936


“Stew, we really need to ask one of the locals for directions to Bubba’s Corner BBQ.” Maryann fidgeted in the passenger seat and put the flyer on the dashboard. She had picked it up at the last gas stop and they decided to eat lunch there. Only thing was, they couldn’t find it. All they knew was that it was here in Washbash, West Virginia.

“Mary, you know I don’t need no directions. I’m a man.”

She gave him side eye. “What does that have to do with it?”

“Men don’t ask for directions.”

“We ain’t gonna’ find it driving around town looking at all these corners, now are we?”

Stew puffed. “I suppose not.” He scrunched up his face. “Okay, but I am NOT asking for directions.”

Maryann sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it. Why don’t you pull into this convivence store, and I’ll ask the first person who comes out.”

Stew turned on the blinker to their red 1963 Ford Falcon and eased his way into the parking lot, stopping near the entrance of the store. Maryann looked at the flyer again. A plate of mouthwatering beef brisket burnt ends slathered in Kansas City BBQ made her stomach grumble. Next to that honking plate was a mound of cornbread and collard greens. Stew was in it for the cornbread and collard greens. Said it reminded him of his Aunt Jennie’s.

A young couple walked out of the store. The guy wore his baseball hat backward and must have had a big wad of chewing gum in his mouth. The girl’s hair was curly and extra frizzy, and she had a cigarette in her fingers.

“Hey you, do you mind? I need directions.” Maryann waved from the passenger seat.

The man and woman came by the window.

“Directions? To where?” asked the guy.

“I bet you need direction to Bubba’s, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Maryann.

“Everyone does. Mind ya’ Bubba’s got the best burnt ends this side o’ the hicks an’ they’re cheap, too.”

“Heck, me and Evie here had some o’ Bubba’s last night.” The guy rubbed his tummy.

“He’s still fartin’ it off,” said Evie.

Maryann raised an eyebrow. “Well, I just need directions, that’s all.”

“Start by—”

“Hold on,” said Stew. He held up a hand. “What are you still fartin’ off? Don’t tell me it’s the cornbread and collard greens.”

“No sir, ain’t the cornbread.”

Stew breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” said Evie. He waved her hand toward the street. “Ya’ gotta’ go to Gus’s tackle shop first. He sells the best worms. Ya’ gonna catch some good catfish with those worms, now, ya’ hear.”

“We’re not here for the catfish—” began Stew.

The guy held up his finger. “Ah, but the catfish at Bubba’s is mighty fine.”

“So, we go to the tackle shop, then what?” Maryann interjected.

“Just past Gus’s shop is a stop sign. Go that way until you get BeeBee’s hair salon—”

“Which way?” asked Stew.

“That way,” said the guy motioned with his hand.

“Nah, it ain’t that way, Russ – it’s toward the beach,” Evie said.

Maryann arched her other eyebrow. “There’s a beach?”

“Next to the lake,” said Russ. “Bubba’s gonna’ be on the other side next to the paddleboat rental.”

“How about you use some directions?” asked Stew.

Russ and Evie shrugged their shoulders and looked at each other. Finally, Evie spoke up. “Well, every time we do that, all the out of towners get lost.”

“Oh, okay,” said Maryann, matter-of-factly.

“Besides, Russ can’t tell his fork hand from his shootin’ hand.”

“They’re not the same?” Stew looked aghast.

“Nah, I’m ambidextrous,” Russ answered.

Maryann looked up from an old receipt where she was writing the directions down. “Okay, go to Gus’s tackle shop, then that way, find BeeBee’s hair salon and then…”

“Go about a mile till you get to Larry’s Plumbing shop then take the next dirt road toward the beach. Follow it around the curve and you’ll get to Bubba’s,” said Evie, proudly.

Maryann glanced from the flyer to Evie. “Huh?”

“That’s as good as those directions are gonna’ get, Ma’m,” said Russ. He blew a big bubble. Thankfully it didn’t pop in his face.

“I got a question,” asked Stew. “Why is it called Bubba’s Corner shop if it’s on a curve?”

“Well, Bubba’s Curve BBQ don’t make no sense now, does it?” asked Evie. She took a drag off her cigarette.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” said Maryann. She furiously scribbled the rest of the directions.

“Well, thank you for telling us how to get there. Need a couple of bucks?” asked Stew.

“Sure,” said Russ.

“No,” said Evie. She elbowed him in the ribs.

Stew reached into his wallet and pulled out a five. “Here, take it. I insist.”

Russ reached over and grabbed it. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Really, Russ.” Evie pouted. “It’s bad manners.” She paused and motioned toward the road. “Now don’t forget go to Gus’s tackle shop…”

“We’re good,” said Stew. “You guys have a nice day.”

“You, too,” Evie waved. Russ sniffed the money. Maryann had no idea why he did that.

“You still wanna’ eat at Bubba’s Corner BBQ?” asked Maryann.

“Sure,” said Stew. He put the car in drive and eased out of the parking lot. “After all, it wasn’t the cornbread that gave him the farts. I bet it was the burnt ends.”

“Evie would have said so,” fussed Maryann. “I bet it was the catfish. He did say it was mighty fine.”

“Hopefully, we’ll never know.” Stew followed the road to Gus’s tackle shop and then went that way.