Semi-literate Doswell farmer Wayne Gibbous specializes in regaling neighbors with astonishingly boring and pointless stories, usually surrounding his childhood “back home” near Nitro, West Virginia.
Residents who have endured Wayne’s long-winded, tedious diatribes report that not only are they thick, confused and rambling, but almost surreal, even nonsensical in their mind-numbing pointlessness.
“I bumped into him at the post office last Thursday,” says stunned Food Lion employee Mark Griggs. “Without thinking I asked him how his prize heifer was doing, because I knew she had been sick with colic. Well, I immediately regretted the question, because he erupted into this most sprawling, incoherent explanation that went on for what seemed like hours, covering every topic under the sun. Good Lord, he talked about chickens and used tires and God knows what else. It was positively excruciating.”
Wayne has been known to even respond to the most simple and mundane question with a novel-length discourse positively paralyzing in its dense monotony. Hapless victims of his repetitive, wrist-slitting monologues go so far as to report actual physical symptoms that can last for days.
Blanton Road resident Maude Ridgeway was even briefly hospitalized after enduring a non-stop crushing, brain-freezing account of the origins of Wayne’s limp. “I made the mistake of asking him why he limped,” Ridgeway says from her bed in room 3245 at Regional Memorial Medical Center. “Good Lord - he had me cornered in the Doswell Express Stop-n-Go, and I couldn’t get away. I guess I’m too nice, but he had me there for what seemed like all weekend. I escaped by diving through the front window.” Ridgeway had to stop her interview when a nurse came to change her wound dressing.
Somewhat reluctantly, this reporter took a deep breath and went to Wayne to interview him for this post and here is his introduction, verbatim, delivered in a drawling, slow-motion delivery, punctuated with breath that was a combination of sardines, grapefruit and spoiled dairy products:
“Wail, yestiddy ah was out in th’woods. An’ ah heered uh noise, and ah said to m’dog, ‘Dog?’, an m’dog said ‘Whut?’, and ah said, ‘What was that noise I heerd?’. An m’dog -he’s uh laboratory retriever - said ‘Ah don’ know, Wayne’. An ah turn around slow, when ah seen uh deer, and th’ deer, he took off and run smack inta me, an ah dropped m’ gun an it went off an ah busted m’ haid on uh tree limb. Shee-it, m’ haid was bustin’ open, an you could peel m’ skin back an
see m’ brain. I left th’ woods and walked back to th’ truck - it was parked on uh secretary road just off th’ main road - an I drove by th’ house, an ah tol’ m’ brotha Warr’n that ah busted m’ haid, an I was drivin’ to docta Watchacallit - you know, up yonder at th’, um, at th’. . .at th’ crossroads? So ah drove up to see docta Watchacallit - he’s th’ one who seen m’ brotha Warr’n back home in Nitro when he had them sick haidaches? An he retched in his mouth, an twisted
his skull, an took th’ pressure off his brain, an his sick haidache stopped, an he ain’t had none since - well, ah tol’ him ah busted m’haid on uh tree limb - an oak, ah believe, but mebbe it was a sweet gum, because I smelt it and ah said ‘Warr’n?’, and he said ‘whut?’ An’ ah said. ‘Ah reckon that dere tree’s a sweet gum, cause it smells lack a sweet gum.’ An he said ‘Allright’ - and then he said, Wayne?’ An ah said, ‘Whut?’, An he said, ‘Ah kin fix yor problem, an he retched down my throat, an massaged my prostrate. Then he said, Wayne?’ An ah said, ‘Whut?’ An he said, ‘See if’n you don’ feel gooder from ‘ere on out,’ an ah said ‘Allright’. An you know, mah haid quit hurtin’ just like that, an I drove m’truck home, an Ah said t’ma brotha, ‘Warr’n”, and he said, ‘Whut?’, An ah said, ‘Ah wen’ t’ docta Watchacallit an damn if he din’ fixed mah haid.’ An Warr’n said ‘Allright.’ . . .”
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Residents who have endured Wayne’s long-winded, tedious diatribes report that not only are they thick, confused and rambling, but almost surreal, even nonsensical in their mind-numbing pointlessness.
“I bumped into him at the post office last Thursday,” says stunned Food Lion employee Mark Griggs. “Without thinking I asked him how his prize heifer was doing, because I knew she had been sick with colic. Well, I immediately regretted the question, because he erupted into this most sprawling, incoherent explanation that went on for what seemed like hours, covering every topic under the sun. Good Lord, he talked about chickens and used tires and God knows what else. It was positively excruciating.”
Wayne has been known to even respond to the most simple and mundane question with a novel-length discourse positively paralyzing in its dense monotony. Hapless victims of his repetitive, wrist-slitting monologues go so far as to report actual physical symptoms that can last for days.
Blanton Road resident Maude Ridgeway was even briefly hospitalized after enduring a non-stop crushing, brain-freezing account of the origins of Wayne’s limp. “I made the mistake of asking him why he limped,” Ridgeway says from her bed in room 3245 at Regional Memorial Medical Center. “Good Lord - he had me cornered in the Doswell Express Stop-n-Go, and I couldn’t get away. I guess I’m too nice, but he had me there for what seemed like all weekend. I escaped by diving through the front window.” Ridgeway had to stop her interview when a nurse came to change her wound dressing.
Somewhat reluctantly, this reporter took a deep breath and went to Wayne to interview him for this post and here is his introduction, verbatim, delivered in a drawling, slow-motion delivery, punctuated with breath that was a combination of sardines, grapefruit and spoiled dairy products:
“Wail, yestiddy ah was out in th’woods. An’ ah heered uh noise, and ah said to m’dog, ‘Dog?’, an m’dog said ‘Whut?’, and ah said, ‘What was that noise I heerd?’. An m’dog -he’s uh laboratory retriever - said ‘Ah don’ know, Wayne’. An ah turn around slow, when ah seen uh deer, and th’ deer, he took off and run smack inta me, an ah dropped m’ gun an it went off an ah busted m’ haid on uh tree limb. Shee-it, m’ haid was bustin’ open, an you could peel m’ skin back an
see m’ brain. I left th’ woods and walked back to th’ truck - it was parked on uh secretary road just off th’ main road - an I drove by th’ house, an ah tol’ m’ brotha Warr’n that ah busted m’ haid, an I was drivin’ to docta Watchacallit - you know, up yonder at th’, um, at th’. . .at th’ crossroads? So ah drove up to see docta Watchacallit - he’s th’ one who seen m’ brotha Warr’n back home in Nitro when he had them sick haidaches? An he retched in his mouth, an twisted
his skull, an took th’ pressure off his brain, an his sick haidache stopped, an he ain’t had none since - well, ah tol’ him ah busted m’haid on uh tree limb - an oak, ah believe, but mebbe it was a sweet gum, because I smelt it and ah said ‘Warr’n?’, and he said ‘whut?’ An’ ah said. ‘Ah reckon that dere tree’s a sweet gum, cause it smells lack a sweet gum.’ An he said ‘Allright’ - and then he said, Wayne?’ An ah said, ‘Whut?’, An he said, ‘Ah kin fix yor problem, an he retched down my throat, an massaged my prostrate. Then he said, Wayne?’ An ah said, ‘Whut?’ An he said, ‘See if’n you don’ feel gooder from ‘ere on out,’ an ah said ‘Allright’. An you know, mah haid quit hurtin’ just like that, an I drove m’truck home, an Ah said t’ma brotha, ‘Warr’n”, and he said, ‘Whut?’, An ah said, ‘Ah wen’ t’ docta Watchacallit an damn if he din’ fixed mah haid.’ An Warr’n said ‘Allright.’ . . .”
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