Southern Mythology

The earth split from the clash of ice and fire. The mountains rose in shadow of the moon. The oceans gave forth salt. The swamps billowed forth the butter of the ancients. Bocephus, god of the Honkytonk looked down into the land of Garth. He whispered to his muses, "Can you find the one who can make the grits?"

This was the age of the questioning, the age of the incredible, the age of the hominy. The land had gone stark and dank. Bleak fields of corn washed to and fro' in the wind. Mills churned the saffron harvest day after day, night after night. The only sun in this desolate land was the grain. "Can you find the one who can make the grits?" Bocephus said with thunder and reverb.

Lost was the secret. There was no one left in the land who could prepare the early morning meal, the sustenance that gave the people life. Queen Shania had been kidnapped by a pack of Trojans. The King in desiring her return, struck a deal with the overlords of the dark. They would awaken the Hounds of Hell to ferret the queen. But, it had been many, many seasons and she had not been found. With her, the secret of the grain was lost.

While waiting high in the heavens, or the Ozarks, Bocephus tried to find one who could prepare the grits. His sprites found a near virgin from the dense land of Alabama. Her name was Camaro. He told her to prepare the grits. She toiled in his kitchen day and night fruitlessly, until she found the box of instant grits. The instructions on the packet said to, add 2 goblets of boiling water. Camaro went mad that very night. She realized Bocephus had given her a paradox no mortal could solve. There was no way she could get 2 goblets of boiling water into that little packet.

The King sought after Queen Shania. First in Athens, then in Rome, he combed the Land of the Red Clay. She was not to be found. He traveled even to the city of grease, the Waffle House. Though he didn't find the queen, he knew she had been a prisoner there, for they were preparing the sacred grits meal. The hallowed food preparer's name was Euripedes. The King, in an attempt to mingle with the common man and learn of Queen Shania's whereabouts, asked the cook for his clothes. As they changed garments, the food preparer placed his large cutlass on the King's new overalls. He said, "You rippa 'dese" and you're dead.

Bocephus was growing tired of waiting for the King to find Queen Shania. He became so enraged with the King's impotence, he struck down lightning bolts from on high. When they crashed to the earth, everywhere they touched, a perfect likeness of the King appeared. The sullen race were called "impersonators." They spent the rest of their days wandering the earth searching for the land called Vegas. Was the King dead? No one knew.

Bocephus now called on the name of the higher beings to deliver the secret of the grits. Yet even Hercules, even Zeus, even Olympus with all their power combined could only produce a tepid, chestnut coagulation called hash brown potatoes. Bocephus god of the Honkytonk fell that day. He whispered as his final breath, "Can you find the one who can make the grits?" Giggling muses just laughed and danced and smiled as they climbed onto the lap of a new hero on high, Kroger, god of the grocery.

Billy Murphy -- 5/12/98