Fetching Whey

The other morning while putting my shoes on  at the gym a product on the shelf caught my eye. Whey Protein. One of my fondest childhood memories washed over me. Going to the cheese factory to get whey with Coon Pickle. For those of you ignorant of all facts whey let me fill you in. It is the odorous by product of cheese making. Wikipedia refers to it as the liquid remaining after milk has been curdled and strained. From that you might be able to conjure up a pretty good image of what it looks like, and even the consistency of the goo. The stench, however, is impossible to imagine. Coon had a tank in the bed of his pickup specifically for whey. He fed the vile gunk to his hogs. We would pull around to the west, I believe, side of the cheese factory. The whey would slosh down a narrow trough and splash into the tank. God it stunk. It was worth the smell just to be with Coon. He was an endless chain of cigarettes and cuss words. Coon not only knew all the usual words, and used them frequently to perfection. His forte was inventing new and improved words, hell the way he could use prefixes and suffixes he should have been an English teacher. Any body party with the suffix -less were some of his favorite adjectives. Nutless, dickless... you get the picture. And nothing was better than when Coon was pissed at someone. That is when his star would shine the brightest.  He would rip into a ten minute dissertation on what he was going to do (dehorn was always my favorite) to his nemesis, where he was going to do it (main street was also a favorite) and to what degree he was going to enjoy it. I liked listening to Coon talk, I loved listening to him cuss. Dan and I would spend hours repeating our favorite coonisms and laugh just as hard every time. Yeah, it may have been a little vulgar, and you couldn't repeat his words in mixed company, but damn it was great. The English language needs guys like Coon Pickel, the nutless son of a bitch!