As a native son of southeastern Louisiana, I keep an – shall we say – eclectic group of friends back in the homelands and swamplands.
Some of them are set to be future petroleum engineers, calculating how to most efficiently use our state’s vast amount of natural resources. Some are receiving their acceptance letters to medical schools, applying their skills to advance modern medicine and to promote human health. The others are just big fuckin’ rednecks who drink 40s and shoot shotguns at anything with feet – sometimes in tandem.
During this most recent New Year’s Eve festivities, a strange assemblage of friends descended upon a mutual friend’s house in the heart of New Orleans, where one of those aforementioned more redneck friends nudged me as I was sipping on my gin and tonic and posited, “Say brah, you wanna play Stump, ‘da most redneck drinkin’ game eva?” Feeling sufficiently ginned up, I immediately agreed, and he began to gather the rest of the group to partake as well.
As we were all circling up in the driveway, my friend was walking back from his King Ranch Edition Ford F-150 pickup nicknamed “Gert” with two cinder blocks and a tree stump about two feet in diameter. When I asked where he picked that up, he simply responded “stol’ it” as he pulled a hammer out of his back pocket, never missing a beat from his tapping nails into the surface of what was once a tree. He then began to explain the basic rules of the game to those of us in attendance who were less-than-redneck.
“Set tha stump up so dat it’s ‘bout between knee-high and waist-high. Erry playa’ gets a nail knockt into the wood ‘round the ring of the stump jus’ far enough in so dat it can stan’ up on its own. ‘Dere’s also a community nail in tha center of the stump. Ya hold a beer in one hand and toss tha hamma wit’ tha otha.
“When it’s yo turn, ya throw tha hamma’ in tha air once so dat it makes a full spin forward and den ya catch it and, in one smooth motion, smack tha shit outta one of tha nails dat ain’t yo’s. Hit a nail, dat person drinks. Hit yo own nail, ya drink fo’ bein’ stupid. Hit somebody else’s body, ya drink for bein’ a asshole. Sink a nail, dat person chugs dere whole beer, though dey do get a single retribution swing. Tha same applies for tha community nail, ‘cept dat erryone drinks or chugs ‘cept fo’ ya.
“If ya drop tha hamma while tossin’ it, ya drink. If ya swing and hit only tha stump, ya pass tha hamma to tha left, cuz ya pass errythang to tha left, brah. Swing and miss a nail and tha stump, ya drink fo’ suckin’. Spill yo beer while tossin’, especially on yo’self, ya drink for alcohol abuse and fo’ lookin’ like a dumbass.
“If someun’ hits yo nail all janky-like and bends it, one time during tha game ya get to sacrifice yo regular toss for a turn called a ‘Straighten’ where ya get to use tha claw of tha hamma to fix yo crooked nail. Place yo beer on tha stump and go to work on dat nail, but knock ova’ yo beer while straightenin’ and yo special turn’s up and ya gotta drink for tha spillage.
“Last man standing wins. Ya betta start practicin’, city boy, cuz we been playin’ dis fo’ tha past coupla months now, and ya might get yo ass handed to ya.”
As the twelve of us went round and round again stumpin’ it up, there were multiple dropped hammers, a few self-spillages, many yelled expletives, and lots of laughter. About half-way through the game, one of my other friends who was also a city-boy newbie managed to muster up a good toss and a strong enough swing to do some real damage to a nail’s lifespan, but then he cleanly missed everything he was supposed to hit and thus had enough momentum to smack himself in his own damn shin. Luckily, his senses were slightly dulled and he only hit the meat of his leg, so he only ended up with a bruised muscle rather than a shattered bone. Nonetheless, we still made him drink. The rules of Stump are quite sacred, and we thought that it might help to ease forthcoming pain.
In sober reflection, even though the game was quite foolish and probably dangerous even without the involvement of firearms, it was still nice to get in touch with my inner redneck, even if only for a few hours, as overalls and thick accents don’t really go over so well with the Vandy ladies. Besides, that same guy who cracked himself in the shin actually ended up winning the game in the end, so it really is anybody’s game, even if you are more apt to the city life than wielding hand tools in unorthodox manners.
So I encourage you to give Stump a try at your next social gathering. I’m eager to see tree stumps beginning to proliferate on the lawns of frat row, bringing a bit of the backwoods to the backyards of frat brothers. And remember, fellas, that you should persuade the ladies to play too, because nothing’s sexier than a woman who knows how to handle a hammer. Just think about Rosie the Riveter. Now that’s one to pin up on the wall.
For more specific rules and possible game variations, check out this hella extensive and damn official website:
So while we’re in this realm of hypothetical-ness, let’s pretend that you’re on a date with the illustrious Lady Gaga and she’s wearing her lovely meat dress. The night goes swimmingly and she takes you back to her place. Are you scared or excited, and what do you do once you get there?
