Southern stories, strange notions, and fiction from the shadows.
Southern stories, strange notions, and fiction from the shadows.
A humid Thursday in Frog’s Holler, and Colonel Buford Xavier Bass was banging on Possum’s door wearing a chef’s toque made from a bleached feed sack and an apron reading “KISS THE COOK.” “Possum!” Buford bellowed, waving a spatula. “The…
THE MISADVENTURES OF BUFORD & POSSUM: THE GREAT FROG’S HOLLER TREASURE It was the kind of night in Frog’s Holler, Alabama, when humidity hugged your behind tighter than a jealous cousin at a shotgun wedding, and the mosquitoes bit harder…
It was one of those nights in Frog’s Holler when even the frogs complained about the heat, and everything smelled like boiled peanuts, swamp gas, and questionable life decisions. Buford Bass—proud redneck philosopher, amateur explosives expert, and four-time champion of…