A friend of a friend -Bill Hussey and Jeff Neelon-Jan 1


One thing I have learned is that good friends have other good friends. This is a series of stories about friends of my friends.

Of all of my friends Jeff Neelon has stood out to me for the diverse group of friends he and his wife E.A have. He never ceases to amaze me on who he knows. I broached the subject of me doing a daily post in 2015 themed on the topic of “A friend of a friend”.

Jeff was quick to tell me about his friend named Bill Hussey. Bill lives in the Myrtle Beach, SC area and he and Jeff met in college (Wingate).  I have never met Bill but hopefully after you read this you will realize he is funny and rightfully owns the nickname Wild Bill.

The friend: JEFF NEELON

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The picture in middle is a stuffed wildcat and picture at bottom is a Boykin Spaniel named Boogie getting intimate with the wildcat. They are characters in story below.

The Friend of the friend: BILL HUSSEY

Jeff’s story about Bill Hussey who has the nickname “Wild Bill”

Wild Bill has been a good friend since our freshman year in college.

He grew up in North Myrtle Beach, SC and I have to credit him with a lot of firsts in my life. First time flounder gigging, first time almost freezing to death in the Inlet pulling a net, first time catching an alligator and the first time I saw a dog frigging a stuffed wildcat.

Bill has tried to shoot everything that flies, catch anything that swims and hunt all animals than run on the ground.

He has a great den in his home that is a shrine to his accomplishments. On the rough sawn wood walls are duck, geese, large mouth bass, deer and in the corner near the fireplace a wildcat. One day I entered his den/game preserve and he told me to take a seat and he’d get me a beer. Not knowing what to expect I took a big gulp. Bill went to the fireplace and pulled out a stuffed wildcat by his tail and said “hit em boogie.”

Boogie happened to be a worn out Boykin Spaniel who was sleeping behind a sofa. Bill’s three magic words caused Boogie to become alert, shake his head and go tear assing around the edge of the sofa on a line toward the fireplace. One last leap and Boogie clamped his legs around his love interest–and there is only one way to explain it–Boogie started banging the poor wildcat like a screen door in a hurricane.

After a while the wildcat, Boogie and myself were spent. The fireworks were over and I was hurting from laughing so hard. Friends don’t let a story or event like this to be quickly forgotten. I just didn’t realize this would be re-enacted again under slightly different circumstances.

Wild Bill is a great cook. He invited us to a 4th of July cookout. My wife and I did not know the other couples attending his event. After we ate outside we wanted to get out of the sweltering South Carolina heat and headed for the den. In the den there were more couples we did not know. What was familar to me was the stuffed wildcat beside the fireplace, Boogie laying in the same position near the sofa, and blank faces and looks of horror when I described the love making of Boogie I had previously witnessed to total strangers.

Bill came to my rescue as his friends looked at me in bewilderment. Bill got the cat off the hearth, Boogie was given the instructions, woke up and came roaring around the sofa and nailed the wildcat again. One of the female guests was the wife of a CPA who hadn’t smiled the whole night. Well that scene had her falling off the sofa. She was laughing so hard that we didn’t need 4th of July fireworks because it was happening in the den.

I had such a good time that year I temped fate and thought about a Christmas present for Boogie and the Wildcat.  All of a sudden it came to me when EA and I were at a shopping center in Fayetteville. There in front of me was lingerie establishment called The BraPatch. A place where I could purchase some lingerie for Bill’s stuffed wildcat.

I tell my wife OK EA you go in there and get the present. Her response “Hell no, they are your friends.”

I entered the Bra Patch and I feel very uncomfortable, but I had a mission to honor a friend.

I enter and all of a sudden here comes a perky sales girl with a BIG mouth who says “can I help you?”
In a very low whisper I ask if she has any crotchless panties. Her response in an ear blasting volume is “YES SIR WE HAVE TONS OF CROTCHLESS PANTIES.” That was noticed by some elderly ladies that were checking out my purchase as I made my way to the back of the store—with a red face. There in front of me was every color and size. My sales girl helped me select the smallest pair of black lace as I was thinking they must start wearing these in third grade they are so small. Then I had to walk back through the gauntlet of elderly ladies who now had confirmation on my purchase.

The indignation continued when my sales girl got behind the register and all of a sudden the line formed behind me–looking at me over those half glasses on chains like I was a pervert where a half-dozen elderIy ladies and I heard them speaking that this guy in front of them was another pervert like Pee Wee Herman.

I was sweating. The check out process had started. She held the panties above her head. She shook them out.  She made sure they had the correct of number of openings:
Waist check
Left leg check
Right leg check
Crotch check

I’m getting redder, but I am coming up with a plan. A plan that will explain everything. A plan that involves the truth. Finally she takes my money and bags the purchase. I have it now.  As she hands me the bag I tell her in a very loud voice for those elderly matrons to hear “you aren’t going to believe this, but I’m buying these for a real wildcat.”

“Yes sir. That’s what they all say. Merry Christmas to you and your Wildcat”

Thanks Bill Hussey for being a friend of a friend of mine.

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