Paperboy attacked by a pack of wild Chihuahuas!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Paperboy attacked by wild Chihuahuas

It’s a durn fact that paperboys have just about the worstest job in the whole entire world. Yeah, you durn tooting they do, and let me tell you why. Heck, it’s okay when it’s kinda nice out and they ain’t no dogs around. Uh, huh, it’s the dang dogs and the weather that gives us paperboys fits. Let me tell you just one really true…well nearly true story about when I was jumped by a pack of Chihuahuas. Naw, I ain’t kidding. I was attacked by a whole bunch of them right down passed Kennedy corner. Now this might sound a little strange ’cause as you know, Chihuahuas is kinda little. Heck, when they attacked I just started laughing. This is how it went: I had just drawed back to chunk the paper when I heard this high, squeaky barking and shoot, here come about six of them little dogs, and you wouldn’t believed it, they ran right under the gate. Well, I started laughing. You know it really did seem funny to see a whole pack coming snarling and barking like they was gonna eat you alive, when they’s no bigger than a big rat. But shoot, they just kept running and before I knew it I was surrounded. They was snapping at my ankles and then it got real serious—you know it was like a bunch of them fish from South America that’s about the size of a big sunfish, but they’s got sharp teeth just like a Chihuahuas and them fish will plum eat you up. I guess right about then was when I felt some little teeth nip my ankle. Wow, I hollered like a stuck pig the kicked that danged dog like a football. That was a stupid thing to do ’cause it was like blood in the water. Heck, it was the momma dog and she howled like she was dying—course she wasn’t—’cause she just rolled a few times, snarled and shoot, all six of them worthless dogs came after me. Guess they didn’t like me kicking their momma, and when that I started doing what I later called my Chihuahua dance. Now they had me on the run and I jumped and skipped down the street with that pack of little dogs nipping at my heels. It wouldn’t have been so bad, I guess, if that was all there was to it. But no, not on your life. Right next door to the Chihuahua house lives the prettiest girl in the seventh grade, Rosalie, and you might know, her daddy had just sent her out to get the paper when I come skipping by chased by 6 snapping little dogs. Yeah, she laughed…but then I stopped ’cause I looked like such a idiot—and wouldn’t you know it, one of them danged dogs latched on to my foot and I was hopping around swinging a little dumb dog and yelling like a Panther had a-holt of me. Shoot, I finally got that dog to turn loose and I remember something—dogs are a-scared of a rolled up paper. Boy, I grabbed one of them papers out of my bags and I scattered dogs like nothing you’ve ever seen.

“Ahaaa! Take that that you sorry little dog!” Well, evidently, that was another dumb move ’cause Rosalie started yelling at me for beating up a bunch of flesh-eating dogs.

“Richard, you made that poor little dog whine. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Huh? Rosalie, them dogs bit me twice and nearly brought blood.”

“A 12 year old boy picking on little dogs. You are a bad person.”

See, I told you paperboys have some really bad stuff happen—and that danged Rosalie told everybody at school that a pack of tiny dogs chased me down the street.

Paperboys don’t get no respect.

America’s new Mark Twain

A Great Story, July 26, 2010 By  S. Peek (Rocky Mountains, USA) – See all my reviews          This review is from: Lyin’ Like a Dog (Paperback) ‘Lyin’ Like A Dog’ is a well written and highly entertaining story of young boys growing up in the South in the 1940s. This novel has some of the same feel as a couple of highly acclaimed novels set a hundred years before – Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. This one is set in Norphlet, Arkansas and features 12 year old Richard Mason and his sidekick John Clayton Reed. Much like Mark Twain’s characters, Mason and Reed are young adventurers who deal with a wide variety of situations that are great fun for the boys as well as the readers. The duo have run ins with bootleggers, concoct an ill advised get rich quick scheme, and much more. I believe the story is part fiction and part autobiographical. Whatever the combination of those is, the result is highly entertaining. Although I am certainly not trying to ‘dis’ an American legend like Mark Twain, this book is almost as good as his two classics. If the story were expanded a bit, it just might top Twain’s best. I have not read Mason’s previous book, ‘The Red Scarf’, but it is going to go on my ‘to read list’.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, July 1944, #16

Well, several of y’all has asked me what was it like to live on a little farm way back yonder in 1944. Okay, just listen up and I’ll tell you. First off, and the mostest important part of living on the farm is not being seen…uh, huh, at least not being seen by your daddy. If you think I’m gonna walk out to the barn when daddy is tending to the mules, you’ve got another think coming. Sure as I do he’s gonna put a shovel or rake in my hand. So the way it usually works best for me is to run in the house after school, chunk my books in my room and head for Flat Creek Swamp. Heck, just fooling around or going swimming in the creek sure beats hoeing in the garden or feeding the chickens. But you know you’ve alway gotta show up at supper or dinner, if it’s in the summer, and I can’t eat fast enough to keep from getting a list of chores as long as your arm. Heck, I won’t even get sat down until daddy will say, “Richard when you gather eggs this afternoon, clean the manure out of the chicken house.” And before I can even tell a little white lie and say, “Uh, Daddy, I done cleaned it out….” Daddy will jump in and say something like, “Oh, yeah, Richard and get the garden hose and wash the mules.” Yep, it’s work, work, work, and sometimes I think I’m gonna drop dead…well, it ain’t that bad, but living on a farm will shore nuff keep you busy. But you know, it ain’t all bad. Heck, I swim in the creek in a great swimming hole almost every day, and go fishing, pick blackberries, and just have all kinds of fun. Just thinking about it makes me be glad I live on a farm. Shoot, I might get stung by a bee or wasp and you gotta watch out for snakes, but it’s worth it to run free in the woods.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #14

Okay, now, before y’all go and blame me and John Clayton for ‘borrowing’ that Christmas tree from old man Odom, let me just lighten up yore mind. You see, that old coot is as mean as a sack of snakes, and he’s alway ragging us boys, blaming us for all kinda stuff, which we might not have done. Well, maybe we did do some of them things, but he shore can’t prove it, and according to Mr. Attaway, our Civic’s teacher, we ain’t guilty until he proves it without no doubts. So, would you blame us if old man Odom had just forgot to cut down that perfect Christmas tree over in the edge of his yard, and we slipped up a week before Christmas and ‘borrowed’ it? Naw, you see, we figured as much as old man Odom likes to clear land, it just missed that perfect 8′ cedar tree in his front yard. Yeah, and we should be kinda patted on the back for helping him clear his yard of that danged tree, but no not in a million years. Would you belive he grabbed John Clayton by his shirt collar a few days later and just went on and on how he just knowed John Clayton and of course me, was the ones that got his sorry old tree. Well, after that we scatter like a covey of quail when we see that old coot coming, slobbing tobacco juice down his beard and spitting gunk all over the sidewalk. Yeah, I know you might say we should’ve asked if he minded..you know if he cared if we cut that tree, but heck, it was about 9 at night when we decided to cut it down and after we drug it out of his yard, he started shooting at us with birdshot. I figured, as we was running down the road, that we’d done waited too long to ask. Anyway, Mr. Attaway said we ain’t guilty till we’s proven..without no doubts, so stand by and sometime later in the week I’ll feel you in on the rest of the story.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 # 12

Okay, now, just from what I has been hearing, y’all thinks I’m making up some of that stuff about me and John Clayton. Huh? But you is wrong as a backward duck. Naw, that stuff ain’t no lie. It’s the God’s truth, I promise, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye…if I’m a-lying. Course, the way I remember and the way I tell it might be just a little different than if you had seen it happen, but shoot, I shore ain’t no remembering genius, so what I’m a-telling you…let’s just say is kinda like it happened.
Oh, why did I write all that stuff, y’all knows I’m lyin’ like some old sorry yard dog. But this ain’t no lie…in everything I tell you some of it is exactly like it happened. Hey? What bout that? Don’t you wish everybody would tell you just a little truth instead of all lies? Course, you do.
Now I been thanking bout what to write today, and I figured you’d never believe the last part of the Bullet ride at the fair. Well, here goes…just like it happened. You see after them girls got off of the Bullet ride covered in throw-up, they kinda tied into me and John Clayton. Wow, you know you can’t hit girls so we just tried to dodge them swings, but Rosalie grabbed up one of them big furry dogs, which was just a-dripping with vomit, and took off after John Clayton. She finally whapped him in the back and then the girls said a few bad words and left. Well, me and John Clayton stood there while everybody in the long line waiting to get on the Bullet laughed their heads off, and then we went over to the livestock barn where they was a big watering trough. Well, if you ain’t never washed up with water that hogs and mules have been a-slobbing in you ain’t had the worst thing in the world happen. When we finished washing our hair, shirts, and the big furry dogs we headed for the gate to wait on Mr. Reed to pick up up. Shoot, on the way through that crowd of people on the midway, we was smelling so bad, it was like Moses parting the Red Sea. Well, Mr. Reed pulled up right at nine o’clock and we hopped in his car. After bout a minute he said, “What’s that I smell?”
“Uh, well, Mr. Reed, we was over at the livestock barn, and I guessed we stepped in something. Heck, that really weren’t no lie….was it?

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #11

Well, course, none of them girls would even speak to us the next day at school. Can’t really blame em though. I guess if you’re a-gonna throw up riding the Bullet with a couple of girls ain’t the time to do it. Yeah, I blamed John Clayton cause he throwed up first. Anyway, all the boys thought it was just about the funniest thing they had ever heard, but for some reason, none of them girls did. Heck, Norphlet is such a little town that even old Doc down at the newsstand had heard about it. And you’d just know, I was nearly 20 minutes late that morning. Course, I had one of the best excuses…actually I’d been saving it.
“Doc,” I said, “You’ll never believe in a million, million years what happened this morning.” Well, that got old Doc’s attention…just before he was gonna deduct 50 cents from my measly paper route money.
“What?” He gave me one of them, “I know you’re lyin’ like a sorry yard dog looks.”
“Well, Doc, this is the gospel truth. .” Doc just shook his head. “Doc, I was up early and headed down to the newsstand when I passed the alley just up the street, and I saw this sneaky looking feller rattling the back door to the newsstand.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Doc, it was right before you got here. I sent a rock from my sling shot at him, but he just yelled,” “Get outta here, kid!” “And then Doc, he done pulled a gun out and fired at me.”
“Richard are you telling me the truth?”
“Doc, if I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. Anyways, Doc, after them shots nearly got me, I took off like a scalded dog heading down to Marshal Wing’s office. Heck, I’d have been early, if I hadn’t took on that robber. That’s why I’m late.”
“Richard, Wing’s office is just a block away. That couldn’t have taken you more that a couple of minutes.”
“Naw, it didn’t, but Wing wasn’t there, and I had to go down to his house, but he was out checking on something else, so I never did get to report the robber.”
“Get them papers in your bag and get outta here! If you don’t have a paper on everybodies porch by 6 I’ll deduct a whole dollar!”
“I’m gone, Doc.”
Your know, if you tell a little white lie that don’t hurt nobody, it’s okay…well anyway that’s what I think.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #10

Okay, I know y’all thinks we were real smart winning them big furry dogs from the Yankee man at the fair. Well, that what we throught, and, to top it all off, we met the girl I can’t quit thinking about and her best friend as we were walking over to ride the Bullet. Gosh, before I knew it, me and John Clayton had gived our big furry dogs to the girls, and we were sitting on one of them benches eating a big tray of carnival food. I was feeling real good and I said, “Girls, we’re gonna ride the Bullet. Wanta come watch?” Rosalie, the girl of my dreams, kinda laughed and said, “Sure, and we’ll ride it with y’all.” I kinda gulped cause heck, that danged ride looked so scary. It was two little cages on the end of a big arm and it swung around and around. “Y’all know it turns you upside down,” I said. “Sounds like fun to me,” said Rosalie. Well, we bought our tickets, got in line, and I stood there with my knees just a-shaking. But heck, when it started it didn’t seem so bad, and I was thinking it really might be fun, but then I looked over at John Clayton, and oh my Lord. I nearly fainted. He was holding his hand over his mouth! “Don’t! Don’t throw up!” I screamed, but you know something, when you’re about to throw up, nothing in the whole wide world can stop you. “Yuuuuuuhaaaeeeeeeepppp!” You ain’t never seen so much cotton candy and popcorn come out of any kids in the whole wide world’s mouth. It was like a fire hose of vomit…right at Rosalie. But that weren’t the worst. All that vomit made me sick and I added to it. About that time the little car went upside down and our dogs went sailing up to the ceiling and then the next worst thing you can imagine happened. Two vomit covered furry dogs followed by about five gallons of vomit hit us like a nothing I’ve every seen. Of course, them girls just went crazy and by the time the ride stopped they had cotton candy and popcorn vomit all tangled in their hair and me and John Clayton was hugging them big furry dogs to keep them from flying up to the ceiling. When the man opened the car door we just flopped out and the stuff we had thrown up poured out on the ground. Dang! Then girls went crazy and they whapped me and John Clayton, screaming like some wild banchees. It was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t you agree?

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944

Richard, the paperboy, in The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 #9

Yeah, last week was Fair Week. Uh, huh, the Union County Fair was in El Dorado all week. Naturally, it rained, but it always does during Fair Week, so that weren’t nothing. Yes, I went to the fair, and, if you asked me how it was, I’d probably lie like some sorry yard dog, and say “It was great!” And I’d be right…at least partly right. Well, maybe your can’t be partly right, so I’ll just say some of the stuff was real fun, and then, oh my gosh, something happened that just was the worstest thing you can imagine.

Well, let me start with the good stuff and I’ll tell you the bad stuff tomorrow. John Clayton’s daddy drove me and John Clayton to the fair, and dropped us off. That was good cause only the little kids have their parents tag along with them. Shoot, we was so excited we could hardly stand it. And as soon as we got on the midway we saw the Bullet…we was gonna ride it later…maybe, if we didn’t chicken out. It sure looked scary. But before we could get even 10 feet down the midway, a man yelled at us. “Hey, boys! Come try your luck! Win a big furry dog!” Course, we stopped and looked at the booth and there was a man holding a bunch of slingshot standing out front and row after row of big white plates. “Just break three and take your pick!” Heck, I ain’t no little 8 year old, so I figured there was a trick to it. Break three plates with a slingshot from about ten feet. My six year old little borther could do that. They was a trick and we weren’t gonna fall for it. About that time this Yankee man…who really did sound funny…said, “Too hard for you, boys?” and he laughed this kinda high sounding laugh like he was making fun of us. “Richard, that Yankee man don’t think we can shoot a slingshot,” whispered John Clayton. Well, that got my dander up and I kinda swelled up and walked up to talk to the man. “What you gotta do to win one of them big furry dogs,” I said. “Just break three plates with three of the steel balls.” “Naw?” I said. “What else?” “That’s it. Here let me show you how to shoot a slingshot.”

I looked at him kinda funny. Shoot a slingshot? Heck, I’d been shooting a slingshot since I could walk. Was he serious about just having to break three plates? “Now, tell me again…just stand here with my eyes open and break three plates with three shots? Is that right?” “Why yes, boys. To hard for you?” That did it. “Here’s my quarter. Gimmie that danged slingshot.”

Well, crash, crash, crash…three shots and three broken plates. Shoot, John Clayton was pushing me outta the way before I could give the man another quarter, and Ears and Tiny was lining up to shoot. Heck, I guess that danged Yankee man hadn’t been to Arkansas, cause after John Clayton, Ears and Tiny won a big furry dog, he shut down the booth, “Damn, hillbillies!” I heard him mutter. “We ain’t hillbillies,” I yelled, as we walked away. “We’s just white trash!”

Gosh, if we had just gone home right then, but we didn’t…the Bullet was right ahead…I’ll tell you the bad part of the fair tomorrow…and belive me it’s the badest thing that could every happen to an 11 year old.

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Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept 1944 # 8

September 28, 2009 by rhmason

September 28

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #8

Yeah, that little problem with the big ape really did get us in deep trouble. Cause it seems like we wasn’t the only ones in the tent when that gorilla broke the bar on his cage, and you just might know a tattle-tailing little girl told everybody in Norphlet that it was me and John Clayton that done the hissing and upset the gorilla. Norphlet is such a little town you might as well had put it in the newspaper, cause daddy come in from work that next day mad as all get out. Whooo, talk about a switching! My legs hurt just thinking bout it.

Well, I guess you think we deserved it, huh? Naw, we didn’t deserve it! You know why? Okay, let me tell you something bout gorillas: They ain’t like people! Course, you knew that, but did you know they get upset over little things? You didn’t know that did you? I read in the world book that gorillas has been known to pull off the arms of natives that was just a-walking by where they was hanging out. And folks blame me and John Clayton for just hissing. Heck, you can hiss at me all day and I shore ain’t gonna get upset. So we got switched cause a crazy out of his every-loving mind gorilla got a little upset? Yep, I think somebody should tell me and John Clayton they is sorry we got whipped up on. But no! No sir ree bob tail; folks ain’t bout to say we is inocent. But you know something? I don’t think that danged gorilla even was bothered by all that hissing. He probably just was mad cause somebody woke him up. Huh? What if I got mad when somebody woke me up. Wouldn’t that be out of this every-loving world? Uh, huh, and instead of blaming the person that woke us up I’d get another switchin ’cause I acted up. Heck, you know life here in Norphlet ain’t fair a-tall if you’re 11 going on 12. Kids get picked on just because they is kids. We don’t have no rights, whatever rights is. Shoot, I can’t wait to grow up to 12 or 13 where folks won’t pick on me.

Yeah, some of what I just said sounds like a lyin’ yard dog. Don’t it? Well, what’s wrong with a little white lie if it don’t hurt no one? Nothing of course, but you know something, momma don’t go for that one little bit. “A lie is a lie, Richard!” Momma says. Anyway, that’s life around my house.

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Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, # 7

September 25, 2009 by rhmason

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #7

I don’t know how to tell y’all this, but me and John Clayton has got in trouble again, and it’s serious as death trouble…you know big time switching trouble. Well, listen up and I’ll tell you how it happened, and I think y’all will see it weren’t nothing we did.

You see we’d finally scraped up enough money to go to the circus in El Dorado…you know Ringling Brothers, Barnam and Baily… biggest circus in the entire world…that’s what folks say. Anyway, we had a special ticket a man a gaved us for putting up posters. It was to see Guaruantua, the great ape. Well, when we got into the tent where the big ape was, he was sound asleep. Heck, nobody in the entire world wants to see a sleeping ape, so I had this real smart idea…we would stand by each end of the cage and hiss like a big snake. John Clayton would hiss then I’d hiss. What we was trying to do was to just wake him up where we could see him better. The hissing started and we did, wake him up and then some. I knew we shoulda stopped, but John Clayton got carried away and after old Guaruantua got up and started shaking the bars, John Clayton went into a hissing fit. Oh my good Lord in heaven above!…he shouldn’t a-done that. For you could move one of them bars cracked, and we both let out a scream you could have heard in Norphlet. Heck, we was sure that big ape was gonna come outta that cage and start pulling people’s arms off, so we ran out of the tent screaming, “Guaruantua is escaping! Run for your lives!” Uh, well that kinda got peoples attention, and they was the dangest yelling you’ve ever heard and a big crowd of folks went running down the midway. Heck, we was running like a scalded dog and was halfway back to Norphlet brfore you could turn around. 

Now, we’re in more trouble than you can imagine. The danged ape didn’t get out, but as the sherrif, said, “It was two boys from Norphlet which caused all the trouble, and we’re gonna find out who they is.”

Now, all we was trying to do was see Guaruantua stand up. It wasn’t our fault that he woked up in a bad mood.

 Well, it seems like folks is always trying to blame me and John Clayton…heck we didn’t do nothing…much.

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Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, # 6

September 24, 2009 by rhmason

September 24

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept 1944 #6

Now, I know danged well, for sure, that y’all ain’t gonna believe a word of what I’m about to tell you, but I promise, it’s the God’s truth if I’ve ever told it. You see, some of them things that happened to me and some of them just off the wall characters just don’t sound real. Take for example, Peg. Peg? Yep, he’s been Peg forever, at least forever to me. Heck, what else to you call someone with a peg leg? Well, old Peg runs the pool hall down the street from Doc’s Newstand and it’s way and by far the most exciting place in our little town. Course, me and John Clayton can’t go in there when he’s open for business, but Peg is alway coming out on the sidewalk to talk to us and sometimes early in the morning we’ll get to go in. Peg gave me my first job, which weren’t no big deal, ’cause it was just sweeping out the pool hall early Sunday morning before church. But just Peg ain’t nothing…you know for a name. Naw, this is where it get really goofey. Peg’s brother is the city marshal and his name is Wing. Yep, Wing like a bird’s wing. Course, Peg and Wing has got real names, but nobody but God knows what they is. Now get this, and if I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’, Wing ain’t got but one arm. But look out and hold your horses, Peg don’t need but one arm to keep the peace in Norphlet. He’s a blackjack swinging marshal. Man, he can knock ‘em plumb silly with that blackjack. But that ain’t all the strange folks we got in Norphlet. Not hardly. You see I’m the official paperboy for the whole town of Norphlet. Yeah, I know it ain’t but 650 people living there, but I’m it; the town paperboy. I work for Doc Rolinson, who shore ain’t no doctor. Nobody know how he got that name, but that’s what everybody calls him. Doc also kinda funny. Way back a long time ago, Doc got his legs crushed in an accident and now he wheels around the newsstand in a wheelchair….smoking a Lucky Strike in a long holder thinking he looks like President Rosevelt….but he don’t, and they ain’t nobody in Norphlet that thinks he does. I get along real good with old Doc, except when I’m late coming in to deliver papers. Uh, well, since I late most every day, me and Doc hafta talk about why I was late, and of course I had just stayed in bed too long….but I shore ain’t gonna tell him that, so I end up lyin’ like some sorry yard dog, coming up with excuses that I even have touble believing. Shoot, I’m done out of time again and I ain’t told you about Tiny, my good friend, who looks like a walking tub of lard and then there’s that sorry Homer Ray, the bully who looks like a goat that’s been hit between the eyes with a fence post. Well, I’ll get to them in a day or two and I’ll tell you just how the sorry Homer Ray got his just deserts.  More tomorrow….

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Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 #5

September 23, 2009 by rhmason

September 23

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 #5

Okay, y’all, listen up and i’m gonna prove to you that me and Ears ain’t kid criminals. Well, first off let me go back to the watermelon patch with two big old hounds howling like crazy right on our tails, us lugging a danged big 70 pound watermelon while we was trying to just fly across that cornfield, and to top it all off old man Odom was firing away with his old shotgun full of bird shot. ‘Bout that time Ears let out a squeal like a stuck pig, “Ahaaaaaaaa! I’m hit! Shot! I’m gonna die!” Course, even with Ears yelling that he was gonna die didn’t do nothing but put us in higher gear…if that was possible. We made it to the woods with bird shot raining down all around us and the two danged dogs right on our heels. Shoot, we slipped that big watermelon into some bushes and I yelled at Ears, “Get your slingshot out and shoot them danged dogs!” Course every boy we know carries a slingshot in his back pocket and in about the time it take to blink we was a-drawing back to shoot some dogs. I guess if anything was funny ’bout this whole mess was when that first dog caught a rock right up side his ugly head. Man a-live, he put her in reverse so fast his feet was a-spinning. Two more rocks and them dogs hightailed it back toward their house. But, whooooo, you ain’t never heard nothing in your life like the cussing old man Odom made when he got to the edge of the woods. We hid behind a big old oak tree while he railed on and on, you know, how he was gonna have our hides. Well, he finally went back toward his house and we took off like two scared rabbits back toward town. We didn’t stop running till we was at the breadbox. Ears was whinning like he’d been beat with a crowbar, saying he was dying and bleeding to death. Well, I looked at the back of his neck where there was a little spot of blood and right under the skin was a piece of birdshot. Heck, I just popped it out and that was all they was to it. Course, Ears let out another yell like someone had cut one of his finger off. Well, of course we hid out the rest of the day, but the next day, which was the fourth of July we went back to where we’d hid the watermelon and in a few minutes we had it on my wagon and were hauling it back toward town. Okay, let me confess a little something: We was gonna take it to a picnic table behind the school and get so full of watermelon we’d hafta roll home, but something happened. We passed the camp where the solddiers were camped and we could see them sitting around doing nothing on the fourth, and we got to feeling bad. Heck, before we knew it we’d hauled that watermelon over to where them soldiers were camped and five minutes later me, Ears, and ’bout 10 soldiers was chowing down. So see we ain’t no low rent kid crinimals. We’s even…We did swipe a watermelon, but we give it to the soldiers, course we ate a bunch of it…..more tomorrow.  

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Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept 1944, #4

September 22, 2009 by rhmason

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #4

Heck, y’all, when old man Odom came outta the grocery store, we was still a-wiping off the spray of tobacco juice from that big sneeze he made. He  waddled by and stopped to check us out. Yeah, he kinda looked at us with one of them squint-eyed mean looks, laughed a little crackly laugh and bit off another chew of tobacco.

“Done lost my last chew when I sneezed. You boys seen it?”

 Course, we not only seen it, we experienced it; danged old man! Well, he though it was so funny he let out one of them belly laughs and slapped his hands together like he was just enjoying a joke…yeah on somebody else.

“Now, boys, I hope y’all don’t get no ideas about my watermelon patch.”

Shoot, right up until he said that we hadn’t even though about getting into his watermelon patch, but when he mouthed off, Ears looked at me and I knowed just what he was a-thinking.

“It’ll be big time trouble if y’all do…big time…you hear me boys?”

We didn’t move or say a word.

“I said, did y’all hear me?”  he hollered

Dang, he almost blowed us off the breadbox again, and we was a-nodding “yes” as we wipped off the spray of tobacco juice.

Heck, now you just think ’bout it. Didn’t that sorry old man deserve to have us raid his watermelon patch? Uh, huh, I knowed you’d understand if I told you the whole story. But just a minute; I ain’t told you what happened after we hid the watermelon in the woods and hightailed it. Heck, when you hear what we did with the watermelon you’ll really won’t think we is little kid criminals.  You see it has to do with that big bunch of soldiers that’s camped down near Henley Hill….well, I’ll tell you more tomorrow…

I

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Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 # 3

September 20, 2009 by rhmason

Okay, I just know y’all is gonna think I’m some kind of a no-count kid criminal ‘cause me and Ears got into old man Odom’s watermelon patch. Well, none of it weren’t our fault…Shoot, I can tell you don’t believe that line of bull, so let me tell you a little bit more how it come about. You see, it was just before the fourth of July and we was minding our own business, just sitting on the breadbox at Echol’s Grocery, when he come a-sauntering up, spitting tobacco juice just everywhere. Heck, there was enough tobacco juice slobbering down his old brown, scraggly beard to choke a mule.

Heck, I can hear him now.

“Boys, y’all ain’t never gonna believe the watermelons I done raised using some newfangled water troughs. Big uns…some ill-go near 70 pounds and they gonna be ripe by the fourth.”

Well, I piped up; “Gosh Mr. Odom, let us put our money together and buy one.”

“Ha, y’all just a bunch of kids and these melons is being raised for some big money folks.”

“We really would like to have one,” said Ears.

“Huh? Don’t y’all get no ideas….”

He kinda took a good breath, gulped, snorted, and got all choked up, and good Lord in Heaven above, he coughed and it sounded like he was strangling then, hold your horses, he sneezed like some old scalded hog, and I thought he was gonna bust a gut. Shoot, it was like an nose and mouth explosion.

“Ahaaaa, Ohhhhaaaaa!…..Choooooo, AAAAAAAhahhhh….CCCChoooooo!!!!!!”

Listen, it’s hard to describe just exactly what happen, ‘cause before we could move, a spray of tobacco juice and all kinda other yucky stuff just came at us like a wave of brown spray, and we was blowed back almost off the breadbox covered with….well I’ll bet you can guess. Dang! He just walked into the store like nothing had happened, and we jumped off that breadbox hollering, trying to wipe that slimy stuff off…heck, we didn’t have no shirts on neither and that made it all the worse.

Course, that ain’t near all of what happened but I’m outta time….more tomorrow.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944 #3

Okay, I just know y’all is gonna think I’m some kind of a no-count kid criminal ‘cause me and Ears got into old man Odom’s watermelon patch. Well, none of it weren’t our fault…Shoot, I can tell you don’t believe that line of bull, so let me tell you a little bit more how it come about. You see, it was just before the fourth of July and we was minding our own business, just sitting on the breadbox at Echol’s Grocery, when he come a-sauntering up, spitting tobacco juice just everywhere. Heck, there was enough tobacco juice slobbering down his old brown, scraggly beard to choke a mule.

Heck, I can hear him now.

“Boys, y’all ain’t never gonna believe the watermelons I done raised using some newfangled water troughs. Big uns…some ill-go near 70 pounds and they gonna be ripe by the fourth.”

Well, I piped up; “Gosh Mr. Odom, let us put our money together and buy one.”

“Ha, y’all just a bunch of kids and these melons is being raised for some big money folks.”

“We really would like to have one,” said Ears.

“Huh? Don’t y’all get no ideas….”

He kinda took a good breath, gulped, snorted, and got all choked up, and good Lord in Heaven above, he coughed and it sounded like he was strangling then, hold your horses, he sneezed like some old scalded hog, and I thought he was gonna bust a gut. Shoot, it was like an nose and mouth explosion.

“Ahaaaa, Ohhhhaaaaa!…..Choooooo, AAAAAAAhahhhh….CCCChoooooo!!!!!!”

Listen, it’s hard to describe just exactly what happen, ‘cause before we could move, a spray of tobacco juice and all kinda other yucky stuff just came at us like a wave of brown spray, and we was blowed back almost off the breadbox covered with….well I’ll bet you can guess. Dang! He just walked into the store like nothing had happened, and we jumped off that breadbox hollering, trying to wipe that slimy stuff off…heck, we didn’t have no shirts on neither and that made it all the worse.

Course, that ain’t near all of what happened but I’m outta time….more tomorrow.

Richard, the paperboy, from The Red Scarf, Sept. 1944, #2

Heck, I ain’t never done something like this so I’m having a little trouble getting started, but here goes. First off, and I guess the first think you’d notice about me is that I’m kinda thin and tall. Uh, well, I’d be lyin’ like a dog if I didn’t tell you I ain’t just thin, I’m skinny as a rail, but I’ve got bunches of black hair…just like my skinny mamma. Anyway that’s me, skinny and, uh, well,… I’ll hafta admit it’s been real hard for me and John Clayton to stay outta trouble…real bad trouble…knock you dead trouble. Heck, just last summer me and one of other friends, Ears,…yeah, you guessed it. Old Leroy has got some saucer like ears, he’s skinny and has a burr haircut. He don’t wear nothing but some old ragged overalls with one strap. Uh, huh, even I think he looks pretty danged country. Well, one of the big heaps of trouble we got into last summer had to do with sorry old man Odom’s watermelon patch. Now don’t get no ideas. We weren’t really stealing one of them big 70 pounders….uh, well, yeah, I’m doing it again, lyin’ like some sorry yard dog. Anyways, he deserved it for just ragging us all the time, spitting tobacco juice on the sidewalk….and you just know, since we all go barefooted, we’s always stepping in it. But what happened when we grabbed up that watermelon still gives me nightmares. Two of the biggest and the danged meanest dogs you’ve ever seen in your whole entire life zoomed out from under his porch and started after us; howling to beat 60. That would have been bad, real bad, but what happened next was a whole lot worser.  I heard the back door of old man Odom’s house slam and that old man started a-hollering like somebody was a-stranglin’ him. Course, we was moving on. Heck, if you ain’t seen two boys carrying a 70 pound watermelon try to fly across a corn field you ain’t seen nothing. We were hightailing it like nothing you’ve ever seen and then ‘Boom! Boom’. The danged old man had cut loose with his shotgun loaded with bird shot. That’s when we done started flying…You know, just barely touching the ground, squealing like two stuck pigs, and knocking then cornstalks down like they wasn’t even there. Well, we hung onto God’s coat tail, and he dragged us to the woods where we hid the watermelon…gosh just telling that story has done nearly wiped me out. Course, there’s a bunch more to it, but I done run outta time today. Tomorrow I’ll fill you in on the details.

I guess you might say if y’all want to keep hearing ‘bout all the other stuff me and John Clayton got into, I’ll keep on blabbing. Tune in tomorrow.