A few of you have seen Hick in the flesh, and can attest that he certainly does exist. And before the rest of you go all shuddery and have that saliva flooding your mouth pre-regurgitation at the thought of Hick exposing his flesh, let the record show that he was fully clothed when he showed himself at The Book House a while back.
For everyone who was not privy (heh, heh, I said PRIVY) to feasting your eyes on prime Hickness, allow me to give you a taste. Sop up that saliva! I don't mean an actual TASTE, taste. Like swirling fine wine around in your mouth before spitting it into a bucket, or walking on Hick like a butterfly would in order to sneak a taste with its feet.
Prepare yourself now...here it comes...
That's Hick in his work clothes, back when he started building his creekside cabin. No. It may come as a surprise to you that Hick is NOT a plumber! He can do plumbing, but there's none of that going on in this cabin. It's rustic. Like the Jed Clampett and Granny's cabin before Milburn Drysdale got ahold of their bubblin' crude money.
Here's a picture of the finished product, though it has been updated with a bedroom since the photo.
Y'all are welcome to sit a spell on the front porch if you're in the neighborhood. Look out, though. There might be some unwanted visitors keeping you company.
Hope you found satisfaction in the Hick exposure. Now you'll recognize the barber if you drop into The Little Barbershop of Horrors for a haircut.