It's about catfish. Thems whats farm raised and thems whats nachral. Thems we git from the crick and the big 'uns that git away, thems the gals buy at Food Lion and thems bubbas catch at the crick. Better 'uns and worser 'uns. Depends on whats you like.
-- Bobby Joe, Assistant Manager of the Piggly Wiggly in Bug Swamp, West Virginia
Two counties duke it out over a still and the holler what holds it.
The county of Sour Mash uses the holler to make the bestest moonshine in all West Virginnie. Tommy Bob, a whittler who fries catfish, is durn tired of the fussin' and feudin'. Him and his bubba, county sheriff and top deputy in Sour Mash, and sons of the county judge, negotiate a stop-sign, police car, and mud crusted mess in a tussle what gets ever more drunken.
Across the holler, Joe Bob, sheriff of Boones Farm, and his younger bubba, Gary Lee, (they's both sons of the county judge too) got no good shine for theyselves, so's they launch a half assed cockamamie plan to steal of the still they knows is needful to stop them damned DTs. Lacking the shotguns to eject Sour Mash from the holler on its own, Boones Farm forms sort of an understandin' with its neighbor county up mountain.
Dumas County, good ole boys stuck in the middle, needs the holler to transport some of that there wildwood weed they grows, but gotta have their trucks fixed in Boones Farm since they gots no service station of theys own since Lee Roy's burnt down. Its sheriff and deputies find theyselves fussin with their father's (He's a county judge too) Just Say No campaign and common horse-sense what's they ain't got a lick of.
At the other end of the holler and a fair piece down the crick too, in way the hell and gone Goat Hair River, another set of bubbas is suckered into the fightin, forced to pursue a catfish they did not summon.
Here or there, Sour Mash or Boones Farm, them or us. When the lines between right and wrong, win and lose blur, time and place dissolve to leave bubbas - drunk, inbred, and stupid.
BUBBAS is their story.