Southern Hospitality

Tom kicked a rock in frustration, as he opened the gate to a quaint little farm house. As it squeaked open, a lazy old coon dog peered at him from the wooden porch of the old farm house. Tom hesitated for a moment, as the weary old dog resumed to napping. He slowly followed the worn flagstone path up to the steps of the porch, and stopped once again as the dog half heartedly raised his head. The dog released a muffled gruff as if to complain that this stranger was disturbing his all to important sleep, then closed his eyes and returned to resting.
The old wooden floor of the porch creaked ...

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