Party Down South

This Northern guy moves to a small rural Georgia town.He’s lived there for many weeks, and although he’s said hello to some of the locals he’s never been invited to socialize.

One day, however, he hears a knock at the door. He opens it and sees a big burly Georgian with a thick black beard, missing a few teeth, wearing dirty overalls and no shoes.

Before the guy can say anything, the Georgian says, “I come over to invite you to my birthday party tonight.”

“Birthday party?” asks the guy.

“Yeah,” replies the Georgian. “You like drinkin’?”

“Oh sure,” says the guy. “I’ve been known to put away a few at a party.”

“Well, we’re gonna drink all night,” says the Georgian. “Beer, whiskey, bourbon, vodka, even some of Daddy’s moonshine. You like dancin’?”

“You bet,” says the guy.

“Well, we’re gonna dance all night too,” says the Georgian. “Fast dancin’, slow dancin’, square dancin’, line dancin’, gonna do it all. You like to fight?”

“Well, not really,” says the guy, “but I guess I can defend myself if I need to.”

“Well, I gotta warn ya,” says the Georgian, “there’s always a big ol’ fight near the end of these parties. Gets pretty fierce. Sometimes people get hurt. You like sex?”

“Why, sure,” says the guy.

“That’s good,” says the Georgian, “because after the fightin’ there’s always a lot of sex. All night long, sex, sex, sex: till the sun comes up the next morning.”

“I’ll be there!” says the guy, dazzled by the prospect of a night of drinking, dancing, fighting, and sex. “So what do people wear to a party like this?”

“Don’t matter,” says the Georgian as he walks away. “It’s only gonna be you and me.”

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