Local Woman Begins "Speaking In Tongues" At Recent Get-Together

A local citizen, long renowned for her excellent diction and firm, solid grasp of the English language, suddenly burst into a tongue foreign to her the minute the mayor, originally from the great state of Mississippi, sauntered into the room for the weekly Sabbath celebration. "Well, we like to meet for our worship services on Saturday morning, the day laid down in the bible as the Sabbath, (the biblical 7th day 'of rest' begins at sundown on Friday and ends at sundown on Saturday - and is not on Sunday - contrary to centuries of tradition) so when I showed up at the appointed time, dressed in my usual attire - flannel shirt, clean overalls, straw hat, scuffed leather boots, (coon dog in tow, of course) - you know - the classic trademarks of a true Southern gentleman of taste and sophistication, - when all of a sudden she just let forth this eerie stream of words and intonations that were enough to raise the hackles on the back of my neck. It was just 'other-worldly'" said the mayor.

"I was always under the impression that when people 'spoke in tongues' that they used some august, impressive, and indeed ancient language like Latin, Greek, Hebrew or one of the other foundational pillars of our linguistic landscape. So one can only guess at my surprise when my fellow Sabbath celebrant spewed forth a well-refined string of Southern redneck jargon that would have even made my old grand pappy proud, bless his long-stilled heart. It was like some 'mysterious' mixture of "Mini Pearl" and "Jeff Foxworthy" all rolled into one. It has been a while since I lived in the South, so I did not catch all of it, but I was able to pick up enough verbal clues such as "Hankering", 'I Recon", "Ya'll" and "Fixing to" (not to mention making a hash out of that whole 'lunch/dinner/supper' thing) to realize that this was, in fact, no act being put on for my amusement or mortification" said the mortified, less-than-amused mayor with an all-too-common look of bewilderment! (there is still some dispute over whether there was, in fact, subtle hints of banjo music wafting in the background and/or the satisfying smell of "sweet tater pie" floating tantalizingly from the kitchen since witnesses differ hotly on these points)

"Well, I just don't know what came over me" said the multi-lingual maven of mischief. "One moment I was fine, just chatting away like any normal person, and after laying eyes on the mayor and his folksy 'get-up', the next thing I knew I was just transported back in time and place (after shedding numerous IQ points, by the way) to the linguistic Antebellum South where all syllables are drawn out until your head wants to explode and where it takes 15 minutes to ask for a glass of water. Oh, it was horrible!" she cried. "I really have no idea what I uttered, but I could tell by the look on the mayor's face that this gibberish was having some profound effect on him. He just sat there, mouth open, trembling like some puppy that just got pulled from an icy river. I felt really bad for him" she said disingenuously.