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Updated: May 23, 2025
"I ain' done straighten 'em out yit, Unk Ish," he returned slowly. "'Pears like soon es I done add 'em all up anur done come, an' I has ter kac'late f'om de bottom agin. I ain' got no head fer figgers, nohow. Betsey, she lays dat dar's ten uv 'em, but ter save my soul I can't mek out mo'n eight."
This is generally done by saying very quickly to one of the parties, "Of course you know Miss Unkunkunk." Say the last "unk" very quickly, so that it sounds like any name from Ab to Zinc. You might even sneeze violently. Of course, in nine cases out of ten, one of the two people will at once say, "I didn't get the name," at which you laugh, "Ha! Ha!
This is the only suggestion thus far, from a purely utilitarian standpoint, that Unk Wunk is no mistake, but may have his uses. Once, to test the law and to provide for possible future contingencies, I added Unk Wunk to my bill of fare a vile, malodorous suffix that might delight a lover of strong cheese.
There were thousands of the spines, rough as a saw's edge, crossing each other in every direction, yet with every point outward. Unk Wunk was irritated, probably, because he could not have the salt he wanted. As the hand came within range, his tail snapped back like lightning. I was watching for the blow, but was not half quick enough.
It is probably this power of driving his barbs home by a lightning blow of his tail that has given rise to the curious delusion that Unk Wunk can shoot his quills at a distance, as if he were filled with compressed air which is, of course, a harmless absurdity that keeps people from meddling with him too closely. Sometimes, when attacked, Unk Wunk covers his face with this weapon.
Good thing. boy does that stuff make me sick! good for changing though. thrown away much unk stuff!... The journey, Eliot Mark Laxer, has just begun! Don't turn back! Go! & keep moving.
He delights in solitude, and cares not for his own kind; yet now and then you will stumble upon a whole convention of porcupines at the base of some rocky hill, each one loafing around, rattling his quills, grunting his name Unk Wunk! Unk Wunk! and doing nothing else all day long.
Unk Wunk was out for fun that afternoon, and had rolled down the hill for the joy of the swift motion and the dizzy feeling afterwards, as other wood folk do.
Many en many's de time dat I toted yo' Unk Jeems dat away, en Mars Jeems wuz heavier sot dan w'at you is." BIG 'possum clime little tree. Dem w'at eats kin say grace. Ole man Know-All died las' year. Better de gravy dan no grease 'tall. Dram ain't good twel you git it. Lazy fokes' stummucks don't git tired.
It needed no great help of imagination to read the story here of a starving lynx, too famished to remember caution, and of a dinner that cost a life. Once also I saw a curious bit of animal education in connection with Unk Wunk. Two young owls had begun hunting, under direction of the mother bird, along the foot of a ridge in the early twilight.
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